


Closer

by idontevenlogic



Series: Knives and Bullets, Lavender and Mint [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Police & Yakuza, Blood and Gore, Blood and Torture, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fingering, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kissing, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Mutual Masturbation, References to Drug Use, Riding, Strippers & Strip Clubs, references to drug abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 04:01:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 43,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12100284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idontevenlogic/pseuds/idontevenlogic
Summary: When Kuroo Tetsurou, head of the Nekoma family, called on Iwaizumi Hajime to help him close a deal with a strip club by the name of Diamonds&Sapphires, it seemed like it would just be business as usual. After the deal is done, Iwaizumi expects to head straight to the bar and down a few quality shots of alcohol and wait for his friends outside. What Iwaizumi is not expecting is to meet and practically fall head over heels for the most beautiful man he's ever laid eyes on, a stripper who looks so good in blue it should criminal and has the eyes of a king who's had his crown ripped away.





	1. Indulging

**Author's Note:**

> I would just like to say that this wasn't supposed to happen and then it did. Whoops?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Your eyes are the sweetest stars I've ever seen."  
> —Moulin Rouge

Iwaizumi Hajime had never once set a single foot inside a strip club. With the amount of work that he was often stuck with from his boss, Kuroo Tetsurou, he’d just never had the time to even begin to entertain the notion. His time for relaxation, whenever the rare opportunities were granted to him, was often spent in a seedy bar just off the corner of Gods Know What Street, sipping slowly at glass after glass of a smokey whiskey until he was satisfied or until last call. So, while a strip club could have been a pleasure in life that he was missing out on, it just wasn't at the top of his to do list at the moment. However, when his boss gave a command, Iwaizumi really has no choice but to obey.

The club was called Diamonds&Sapphires. It was a well respected joint, clean and popular amongst business executives and the yakuza alike. Beautiful men and women, a seductive yet theatrical atmosphere, music that faded away once you set eyes on the dancers, good booze, and plenty of whatever pleasures you might desire are there for the taking, if you have the money to spare, of course. Iwaizumi had to admit, the club did not fit what he had always imagined a strip club to be like. He’d always imagined a raunchy, dirty bar where lowly customers paid and clamored to touch sweaty, sticky bodies, and almost no elbow room to maneuver through.

However, the overall establishment was dark but the reflective walls were stroked by turquoise robotic lights, tables bathed in the silvery spotlights of the five stages spread throughout the capacious room. There was a bar set in the center of the room, wrapped around an island stage which was strangely lacking in dancers. Iwaizumi licked his lips when he saw how many different liquors were available for consumption. He would have to come back here for a drink when he wasn't on duty. The music thudded loudly in his ears and his eyes swept the room, a hand on the gun fit snugly in holster at his side as he scanned for any suspicious characters that might have it out for Kuroo, but he couldn't help but be slightly distracted at the sight of the dancers, scantily clad and painted with shimmers to accentuate their features and make them appear more ethereal.

“Nice place, huh, Iwaizumi?” Kuroo asked. The smugness of his voice made Iwaizumi grind his teeth, irritated at how high and mighty his boss sounded. “You don't have to worry about security in this place, my friend. While this place isn't Fort Knox, it’s hard to get past Sawamura’s watchful eyes. He has to protect his Diamond after all.”

Bokuto tugged at Iwaizumi’s sleeve animatedly, eyes wide and locked on as he pointed to one of the dancers on the stage to their right. A beautiful man with messy black hair, sticking to his forehead with sweat and striking blue-green eyes, twirling and writhing to beat of the music. “Iwaizumi, that’s the one I was telling you about! Akaashi Keiji! Isn’t he the most beautiful man you've ever seen?”

“Focus, Bokuto,” Iwaizumi warned, not giving the reply his partner wanted.

“Don’t worry, Bo, my beloved bro,” Kuroo announced dramatically, draping an arm over the shoulder of his right hand man. “After we meet with Sawamura, I’ll pay whatever it takes to get you the longest private show with Akaashi available.”

“Bro!” Bokuto exclaimed. “I knew you’d look out for me.”

“Anything for you, my bro,” Kuroo declared, placing a hand over his heart.

“Bro.” Bokuto mimicked the action.

“So help me, if you weren’t my boss, Kuroo, I would've shot you both dead by now,” Iwaizumi grumbled. “Are we going to meet with this Sawamura or not?” His foot was tapping impatiently. He really wanted to get at that bar and see what kinds of bourbon they had at their disposal.

“Aww, Iwaizumi! There’s no need to be jealous of Bo here. I was going to buy you a couple dances too,” Kuroo teased, his smile crooked and eyes zeroing in on him as he saw a dust of red on Iwaizumi’s cheeks. He patted Iwaizumi on the back. “This is a safe place to give in to whatever nasty fantasies you have tucked away from the world, so why not indulge a little, my friend?”

“I just want some booze when all this is over,” Iwaizumi replied gruffly, purposefully avoiding eye-contact, but, really, where is there a safe place to look in this building? Everywhere there were pleasurable sights that lit a fire in his blood. “If you’ll just pay for some bourbon or whiskey, I’ll be set until you guys have had your fun.”

Bokuto gaped at him incredulously, and Iwaizumi could hear his ear drums shake at the loudness of his partner’s squawk of indignation. “I refuse to let you walk out of here without a lap dance—”

Kuroo raised hand, silencing Bokuto, and was undeterred by Iwaizumi’s reluctance. “He’ll change his mind once he sees the Sapphire.”

Without further ado, Kuroo led the way, attempting to smooth down his messy, raven black hair as they weaved easily through enraptured customers who watched the prepossessing dancers slide up and down poles, roll their hips provocatively, and crawl across the stages to snatch yen from the hands or excitable crotches of customers with their teeth. Once inside the room Kuroo had led them to, Iwaizumi realized why the walls just outside were reflective: two-way mirrors for observing the activities going on just beyond a simple door. A table was set up for them, and two men were already seated.

One man was wrapped in a fitting black suit, his hair short and dark like his eyes. His arms were crossed over his chest as he shifted closer to the other, who wasn't dressed as strictly. This one had wide, warming hazel eyes, a beauty mark just under his left eye, and hair that almost looked like it was made of fine silver threads. He was dressed in a white Arabian princess costume, the top cut very short to expose a good amount of his midriff, and the pants were practically sheer, save for a pair of _tight_ fitting, short shorts underneath that revealed every curve of his—Iwaizumi had to look away before he ogled too long to be considered rude.

“Sawamura, Sugawara!” Kuroo greeted happily, stepping forward with his arms open, as if he was expecting an embrace. Neither moved to give any such informality. “Business is looking good, just as busy as always!”

“Which is why I don't have much time. I have to make sure the crowd favorite is ready for a show in ten minutes,” Sugawara replied, leaning back against Sawamura. Though, Sawamura looked like a big, muscular man that could command a room, Sugawara had the smile of a charming snake. All the power really seemed to rest with him, rather than the one who looked like he knew how to shoot a gun. “You said you wanted to hire one of our Jewels? Anyone specific?”

“The usual,” Kuroo replied, letting the teasing and amicable tone slip away as he sat himself down in the chair across from them. Iwaizumi and Bokuto took their places on either side of him, guard dogs protecting their master. “Our target likes them pretty.”

“His rate has gone up significantly since his last job with Nekoma,” Sawamura stated, a solid glare sent in their direction.

“I don't blame him,” Kuroo replied, a twinge of remorse worming its way into his voice. Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow in suspicion. What kind of job was he going to be going on? Kuroo had said that he would be working with someone from Diamonds&Sapphires, but was he really going to be working with some sort of covert stripper? “We’ll pay him double if he’ll do the job.”

Sugawara leaned forward, resting his head in the palm his hand, his smile curving into something wicked; the snake was preparing to strike if the need arose. “If any harm comes to him again, I will personally see to it that you and your kind are banned from here, permanently, and all ties with your family will be cut.”

Bokuto’s golden eyes, which were usually quite big and full of energy, widened a fraction in panic. _He really likes this Akaashi that much?_ Iwaizumi asked himself.

“He won’t come to any harm this time, I promise,” Kuroo offered, oddly earnest. Iwaizumi noticed that there was a significant difference in Kuroo’s behavior from other jobs. His boss liked to be the one in control of the conversation, the one with the crooked grin and the one who could pull anything because he had the power, but here he was stiff and polite, a student with the wrong answer in front of a demanding teacher. Were Sugawara and Sawamura really dangerous enough to keep Kuroo on his toes like this? “He’ll be with our very best.”

“Funny, honey,” Sugawara chuckled, eyes dancing dangerously as he looked them all over. “That’s what you said last time _before he was almost raped by your targe_ t. He did everything he was hired to do, but your pack of idiots fell short. You’re lucky I trust Kenma. You’re lucky that Kenma _still_ trusts you after that and that my other Jewels find your company most attractive or you would've died a painful death that day, Kuroo Tetsurou.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes widened, and Bokuto was staring at the floor. Were these men threatening his boss? If so . . . He thought about reaching for his gun, his fingers sliding against the leather of his holster, but a single glance from Sawamura had him halting before he even touched his firearm. His eyes were a combination of two things, a reassurance but also a very clear warning of what would happen if Iwaizumi even thought about drawing his piece.

Kuroo cleared his throat, pulled out a photograph from the lapel of his black suit, and handed it to Sugawara, who regarded it like it a precious painting from a museum. “That’s a picture of the men who abandoned their duty and failed protect your Jewel. You will be pleased to know that they are nothing more than dried, rotting stains on a warehouse wall these days. Now, if you’ll accept our payment, we would like nothing more than to continue doing business with you.”

Sawamura whistled, apparently impressed, as he leaned forward to see, taking his eyes off Iwaizumi to look at the photograph. “Shotgun?”

“A _shiny_ pump-action shotgun,” Bokuto answered with a wild grin. “Remington Model 870. Slow to fire, yeah, but that just makes the fear in their eyes shake for a little while longer before their heads explode like a fucking melon.”

Sugawara nodded, pleased and satisfied. “If he accepts, you can have him when you need him, for however long you need, but I want to know who he’s working with this time around.” He handed the photograph to Sawamura who pocketed it. “I’m in a good mood now, so please try not to disappoint me.”

Kuroo nodded in Iwaizumi’s direction. “Iwaizumi Hajime here has mostly been kept busy by tying up loose ends, but I put him on this job because protecting your gem is the top priority aside from taking out the target. He will protect the Sapphire and kill in order to do so. Even though I said something similar last time, this time I can say for certain that Iwaizumi will not let him come to any harm. Other than Bokuto, he is the best I have at my disposal.”

Sugawara inclined his head up, and his nose twitched, unconvinced. “Pity he wasn't put on the last job, could've saved my Jewel from a hell of a lot trauma.”

Iwaizumi raised his head and met the deceptively innocent gaze with his own honest eyes. “If I fail, you can do whatever you want with me. Torture me, shoot me, off my family, whatever you feel is the right call to make me pay should I fail to keep this guy safe.”

The gaze was surprised, but then bounced into glee with ease. “Ooh, I like him! What an honorable dog you have here, Kuroo. If what you say is true, Iwaizumi, then I will gladly let one of my Jewels accompany you on the job,” Sugawara accepted, bouncing easily up and onto his feet. He stalked towards Iwaizumi, lips pursed playfully. A finger trailed up Iwaizumi’s arm, tracing the muscle just underneath the suit, and he smiled triumphantly. “If I wasn’t taken by the gentleman over there, I would definitely take you for quite a ride.”

“Nothing stopping him from joining us every now and then, Suga,” Sawamura commented, a big smile taking over from the business demeanor.

“Only if you’re interested, that is,” Sugawara added, giving Iwaizumi a playful wink, leaning in so close that Iwaizumi could smell hints of jasmine coming off him, not overpowering but enough to nearly make him lean in to investigate further.

Iwaizumi blinked owlishly as Kuroo and Bokuto let out loud and intrusive oohs. He had never been offered to take part in a three way, and he didn't quite know if he ever wanted to. Although, if he had to, he wouldn't particularly mind finding out what was just beneath that outfit of Sugawara’s and Sawamura’s suit. Instead, he offered a half-hearted smile as thanks and nodded indecisively.

“Aww, he’s awfully shy,” Sugawara cooed. Then he turned and made his way over to Kuroo and asked, “Half upfront and half after it’s all said and done?”

“Business as usual,” Kuroo agreed, his signature grin returning to his face. No matter how annoying it could be, Iwaizumi was glad that it was back. It meant the brunt of the business was over and that he could begin to relax.

“Done,” Sugawara agreed. He placed a hand on his hip and eyed Bokuto lazily. “Anything else you gentlemen require before you make your exit?”

“I want to see Akaashi!” Bokuto replied enthusiastically as Iwaizumi tiredly muttered, “A thousand and one shots of your hardest vodka,” just as Kuroo answered with a sly curve of the mouth, “My usual.”

“Sawamura, handle this,” Sugawara ordered, making his way towards the door, hips swaying tantalizingly and waving a hand dismissively.

“Make sure he’s good enough to knock ‘em dead, sweetheart,” Sawamura called after him, rising to his feet. He was smiling broadly as he smoothed down the creases of his suit. Iwaizumi saw the gun on his belt, but was certain that Sawamura was carrying more than one piece.

“I always do,” Sugawara smirked, blowing a kiss in his direction before closing the door after him.

After the door was closed, Kuroo groaned, rolling his head back. Relieved, he let his hand muss through hair, doing his best to return it to its messy glory. “For some of the most terrifying men I know, you two are disgustingly saccharine,” he muttered. He pulled out his wallet and started leafing through bills. “So, alcohol for Iwaizumi because he’s a boring, old man—How much would three hours with Akaashi cost me?”

“¥43,909,” Sawamura replied automatically. He supposed it came with the job, but Iwaizumi was impressed that Sawamura could've had all the pricing memorized, or calculated it in his head that quickly. “Same goes for Kenma. You two better take good care of our gems.”

“Goddamn,” Kuroo whistled, but pulled out the appropriate amount as Bokuto began bouncing up and down excitedly, like a kid at Christmas. “We sure know how to pick ‘em, don’t we, Bo? But I did promise you. Are you sure you don't want anything else, Iwaizumi?” A sharp glare gave him the answer he had already guessed. “Then go have a blast at the bar, my dude. Bo’s driving us back tonight, so feel free drink until you’re plastered and numb.”

“I just might take you up on that offer. It’s your money being spent, not mine,” Iwaizumi replied, a smile making its appearance at the thought of free booze.

He immediately moved towards the door, hungry for the soothing burn of quality alcohol and maybe a cigarette or two, but as soon as he swung open the door and stepped out, his heart was caught in his mouth. He heard Bokuto and Kuroo chuckle, finding his expression comical, as they came up behind him. There on the stage was someone so beautiful that Iwaizumi was suddenly very aware of where he was and that he could watch this person dance all he wanted.

The man was tall, maybe standing around six feet, not packed with muscle, but still incredibly fit and lean. He strutted across the stage clad only in a pair of _amazingly_ tight azure booty shorts that hugged his ass, showing off just how perfectly round it was, and was painted in little silver stars up his neck and cascading down his chest. His eyes glazed over his audience which erupted into loud cheers at his arrival. His hair was waves of delicate maple, his eyes a silky chocolate, and his skin was a fair cream color. With each step he took across the stage, his hips swayed captivatingly. He was a spider spinning a web to trap the customers’ attention, and it was definitely working. All heads were turned towards him and Iwaizumi couldn't blame them. Who would look away?

“Well? What are you waiting for, Iwaizumi?” Kuroo smirked knowingly, as Bokuto jabbed Iwaizumi in the ribs teasingly, laughing loudly. “You wanted to go check out that bar, right? Go ahead.”

“U-Uh,” Iwaizumi stuttered, eyes still locked on the man who wrapped a leg around the pole languidly as the music grew. He hoisted himself up, twirling around and effortlessly turning himself upside down like it was nothing, raising his legs up and spreading them into a split.

“Pretty, isn't he?” Sawamura asked, standing beside him. “Oikawa Tooru, the Sapphire, is the crowd favorite of our fine establishment and you can see why. You know how in the movies there’s always that one stripper that _everyone_ wants to fuck?” Iwaizumi nodded, numbly. “Well, that’s him right there. Flexibility sells like no other.”

 _Oh, he’s flexible all right_ , Iwaizumi thought to himself, a heavy breath escaping his mouth, as he watched this Oikawa Tooru bring himself right side up and began slide down the pole still in a split. As he slid down, he twirled around the pole, curling his legs gracefully, toes pointed. Once down, he spread himself, thin and back arched, lips parted into a flirtatious smile. He then flipped himself onto his back, lifted his hips up and rolled them in naughty circles into the air. He turned to face them and Iwaizumi felt as if those brown eyes could cut right through him.

Kuroo suddenly pushed him forward, and Iwaizumi stumbled. “Go on, the Sapphire doesn't bite,” he encouraged, then he blinked and turned to Sawamura. “He doesn’t, does he?”

Sawamura shrugged. Very reassuring.

Iwaizumi with heavy feet, eyes suddenly locked onto the floor, sped his way towards the bar as Kuroo and Bokuto went on their way to get their private shows, laughing at his back. He slid onto one of the bar stools and was alarmed to find that it swiveled, so he nearly fell out on his initial attempt to sit down. He slid a glance upwards to find the Sapphire back on the pole, kicking up, spreading his legs in a wide V shape to earn wolfish whistles, and then hugging the bar with those gorgeous toned legs so he drop his head back and roll his torso to the deafening beats of the music.

“What do you want?” Iwaizumi met the golden brown eyes of one of the bartenders. He was tall with short blond hair, and his mouth was curled into a condescending frown. “Let me guess, you want something that'll make you seem tough? You look like the kind of guy to have no taste.”

“Tsukki!” the other bartender squeaked as Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes into an intimidating glare.

“How many times must I remind you to treat our customers nicely, Tsukishima? Why can’t you be more like Yamaguchi over there?” came a warning from none other than Sugawara who casually slipped onto the stool beside Iwaizumi. He was wearing a smile that could've been mistaken for sugary, but it held a warning behind it. _Step out of line and I won’t hesitate to take this out for your paycheck._ “This man here works with Kuroo Tetsurou, head of the Nekoma family, so if you want a good tip you’ll treat this man well.”

Iwaizumi nodded to Sugawara in thanks and then turned to the bartender and said, “I don’t really care what you think, make fun of me all you want, but I sure as hell do not want any of that fruity shit. Give me whiskey or give me death.”

“I don't think that’s how the phrase goes,” the annoying bartender, Tsukishima, replied, though reaching underneath the bar to bring up a bottle that Iwaizumi would know anywhere.

An English Crystal decanter, adorned with what seemed like thousands of glistening diamonds like the tears of penniless, a white gold cork capping at the top of the bottle shined to perfection, and minuscule rubies like droplets of blood incrusted into the bottle to spell out the name of the most expensive whiskey known to man.

“Is that what I think it is?” Iwaizumi asked, his mouth watering slightly.

“Oh, an ugly mug like yourself has heard of this? Guess you do have some good taste after all,” Tsukishima brought out a glass and set in front of Iwaizumi, then pouring him a good helping of the liquid ambrosia. “Isabella’s Islay, valued at 6.2 million American dollars. How’s that for impressive?” He then turned to Sugawara. “What’ll you have, boss?”

“A glass of Merlot, if you would, Tsukishima,” Sugawara ordered, after a moment of humming in thought. He then turned to Iwaizumi. “Daichi told me that you were eying Oikawa up there, said that your thirst was practically palpable.” Iwaizumi was staring at his drink before taking a long inhale of the whiskey. He was immediately transported to Scotland, and he let out a very quiet shuddering sigh of pleasure as he took small sip.

He didn't want to talk about the many things that had gone through his mind at the sight of Oikawa dancing, what was still going through his mind, so he deflected the question. “To be honest, Sugawara, I’ve never really heard of a stripper helping the yakuza out in a job like this,” Iwaizumi replied truthfully, setting the glass down.

“No one here is _just_ a bartender or a stripper, Iwaizumi,” Sugawara laughed airily, the tinkling of a bell, and allowing Iwaizumi to avoid his previous question. “Everyone here comes from different pasts. Forsaken by angels and picked up by demons. We’re all fine as hell, prettier gemstones than you’ll find in a queen’s crown, but we can and will crush anyone who comes into our home with ill intent.”

“Roses with thorns, huh?” Iwaizumi found his eyes returning to the Sapphire, but then looked away again, taking another sip of his drink. He was overwhelmed with the smokey tastes of sea salt, charcoal, and a rich caramel, like the hair of the dancer up on the stage in front of him. The liquid burned his throat pleasantly, and he wanted to down the whole glass, but he was being given an opportunity to drink what was worth more to him than gold. So, he was going control himself and make this last even if it killed him.

“Exactly—Oh, looks like my boy feels like teasing his audience today. Remember, no touching, Iwaizumi.”

Befuddled, he turned looked to where Oikawa had last been, only to find that Oikawa was slithering his way into Iwaizumi’s lap, legs on either side of him, trapping him in as a cruel smirk played at his lips. When he met Oikawa’s eyes he swore he forgot how to breathe, getting lost in the little golden flecks in his eyes that reminded Iwaizumi of stars. His hips rolled into Iwaizumi’s, slow and teasing, and there were a few calls from the other members of the audience, saying that Iwaizumi was a lucky bastard. A few looked as if they were just happy to be there to watch. Oikawa distracted him though, smelling like flowers and sex, and his lips were oh so close as his hot breath fanned Iwaizumi’s face.

“You like him, Oikawa?” Sugawara asked, breathily, breaking Iwaizumi’s daze. He was watching them, entranced. “You want him that badly?”

“I was just jealous,” Oikawa divulged, his voice low and sultry. He leaned in to whisper in Iwaizumi’s ear, the soft, brown locks tickling at his nose. “Am I not good enough for you? You’d rather look at a dirty drink than think about fucking me on that stage? Don’t you want to see what I can do?—” another roll of his hips, this time more demanding and rough, a burning friction grinding harshly into him ”—What I would let _you_ do to _me_?” He let his head roll back as he gave a sharp thrust of his hips against Iwaizumi, a breathy moan floating through the air.

“Jesus H. Christ,” Iwaizumi muttered, trying to keep a moan contained in the back of his throat. He wanted to grab those hips, dig his fingers into the toned skin, and show Oikawa just who he was dealing with.

“Oikawa, I pay you to dance, not to fuck one of Kuroo’s men in front of your audience,” Sugawara teased. Though, when he saw Oikawa raise his head and give a childish pout of his lips, still grinding hungrily against Iwaizumi’s lap, his boss reassured him, “I promise you’ll find him later.”

“As long as you promise me, Suga-chan,” Oikawa sang, pleased. He dipped his head down once more to snag Iwaizumi’s ear between his teeth and tug, making the man underneath him jump. Oikawa chuckled haughtily and soothed the nip with a long, hot lick along the shell of the ear, rolling hurriedly into Iwaizumi like he was the one desperate for more.

And then he was gone, suddenly leaping from Iwaizumi’s lap and stepping onto the bar, grabbing a beer bottle that Tsukishima was holding out for him. “Thank you kindly, Four Eyes.” Tsukishima rolled his eyes.

Iwaizumi gasped at the sudden lack of friction and cursed under his breath, as he did his best to squeeze his legs together to hide his growing erection. Sugawara laughed loudly. “Don’t be shy, Iwaizumi, you should be proud. Oikawa doesn't tease just anyone like that, you know? Most of the men who want him only get a taste his foot and consider that the best drug.”

Even if he wanted to, Iwaizumi didn't know if he could form words just yet. Why did all good things have to end so fucking soon?

So, he looked to see Oikawa bring his leg up and extend it forward in front of another man, pouring the drink down the limb. The man skidded forward and opened his mouth, lapping up the alcohol and swirling his tongue around Oikawa’s toes. The dancer grinned almost condescendingly, wiggling his toes and pushing them farther into the man’s mouth. The customer gave no signs of gagging or drawing away, though, as he eagerly sucked on Oikawa's foot like he was sucking a dick, sloppy wet sounds of his lips filled the space between the beats of the music.

In all honesty, Iwaizumi thought he would've been disgusted by a display such as that, but seeing Oikawa be so commanding and standing over them all like a king was somehow turning him on even more. There was more to him than just the show, than the dancing and sultry gazes. There was a power lying just beneath his flawless, shining with sweat, creamy skin, a determination and ambition in his eyes that made them even more beautiful. There were distant dreams buried deep, hidden far below the surface of his smile, disguised as a personality that oozed sex appeal. Yes, Oikawa Tooru was a beautiful enigma that Iwaizumi found himself selfishly wanting to unravel.

“He must cost more than a man could ever afford,” Iwaizumi wondered aloud, taking a bigger swig of his glass of priceless whiskey. “Private shows with him must be something only millionaires can indulge in.”

“He chooses who he wants and no one will argue,” Sugawara replied. “If he likes you, which is rare, you might just get lucky and receive a private dance from our one and only Sapphire.”

Distracted, Iwaizumi was about to ask just how much money he needed for a dance, but a yell caught his attention. A very drunk man was reaching out for Oikawa, hollering about how he had been here long enough to deserve a good fuck. Oikawa just gave the man a disgusted sneer and removed his foot from the other customer’s mouth. He moved to go back to the stage, but the drunkard apparently was willing to have the first thing he could grab ahold of, which happened to be the nicer of the two bartenders

It all happened so fast that Iwaizumi barely registered what happened.

Oikawa, eyes alight with a wrathful fire, crashed the beer bottle on the drunk’s head with enough force to smash the glass as Tsukishima produced a wicked, silver shotgun (a Winchester SXP Defender) and shoved it harshly into the man’s mouth, cocking the gun and his finger twitching on the trigger. Yamaguchi shrieked and yanked his hand out of the man’s grasp, pulling out a knife and slicing at the man’s cheek. The music came to a screeching halt, and Iwaizumi observed that the rest of the dancers and even the DJ had produced varying degrees of deadly firearms, all aimed at the attacker.

“I did not need this tonight,” Sugawara huffed, his eyebrow twitching with vexation as he rubbed his temples. “Daichi, we have a pathetic son of a bitch down here who thinks he’s allowed to touch my boys!”

Sawamura appeared from the shadows in an instant, yanking the man roughly out of his seat and dragging him out the door, though the drunk tried to pry the iron grip off his shoulder and apologize profusely. As soon as the man was tossed out like an old toy, the music started up again and everyone proceeded as though no incident had just occurred. Oikawa resumed hypnotizing the customers around the bar, holding his ass high in the air as he bent down to collect paper money from them all as he went.

Oikawa's performance ended all too soon, but maybe it had been hours. Iwaizumi didn't know, as he’d completely lost track of time. All he could remember was watching Oikawa gather more and more attention as he danced, rolling his torso and hips, his fingers dancing across his toned chest, flying up on the pole, and occasionally jumping into the audience to thrust his ass out to tease just centimeters from their crotches. All the time, though, Iwaizumi could feel when the hot, brown gaze meet his, igniting to life a wildfire in his veins, as he thought about how amazing it would be to touch the dancer, kiss and mouth harshly against his skin until he was littered with love bites. He couldn’t, though, but what was the harm in fantasizing? (Although, fantasizing is what would keep him up at night stroking himself life again and again, thinking about those burning eyes, about the way Oikawa had moaned in his lap, thinking about what tongue and mouth might feel like around his cock.)

When it was over, Oikawa quickly skipped to the back, waving farewell to his audience, flashing them cute victory signs, and throwing them the occasionally knee-weakening wink. When he had disappeared into the back rooms, Sugawara allowed Iwaizumi to finish his drink, but advised him to do it quickly if they wanted to meet with Oikawa about whether or not he would accept the job from Kuroo. It had surprised Iwaizumi, so he asked about it as they made their way through the maze of halls and rooms sectioned off for private shows.

“Oikawa’s the one I’ll be working with?”

“Should he accept, yes,” Sugawara replied, as they arrived at their destination. The door to Oikawa’s dressing room was decorated with various symbols of space, a number of them related to extraterrestrials and stars. “He might be a pretty boy, but he's tough as nails.” He rapped his knuckles against the wooden door.

“It’s open!”

Opening the door, Iwaizumi was not surprised to find the room a complete mess, like a tornado had just come through and thrown everything about haphazardly. Though, he supposed Oikawa was the tornado, appearing beautiful but could be deadly and destructive. Costumes were thrown onto the carpet flooring, body paint bottles littered the counter, and the mirror was smeared with what he hoped were different types of makeup. Oikawa was there, just changing out of the only clothes he was wearing, bending down painstakingly slow to give Iwaizumi a good long look at his ass as he went to pick up what appeared to be a deep blue corset. The sight of it made Iwaizumi’s breath hitch in his throat as Oikawa proceeded to slip into the lacy garment.

“Suga-chan, you kept your promise!” Oikawa cheered gleefully, turning to them after seeing them in the mirror. He leaned against the counter and smirked when he saw Iwaizumi, glancing down at his pants. His grin grew wider as Iwaizumi shuffled under the gaze. “Does he want me to dance for him? I warn you, handsome, I’m far from cheap, you know.”

“I think it’s a safe guess to say that he likes you,” Sugawara chimed in for Iwaizumi, who opened his mouth to object, but ended up letting Sugawara talk. It’s not like it was a lie. Iwaizumi did want to see more of Oikawa, no matter the circumstances, but the job was more important than his libido. “However, that’s not why I brought him here. Oikawa, this is Iwaizumi Hajime, he works for Kuroo Tetsurou.”

“I-wai-zu-mi,” Oikawa repeated, testing the name on his tongue. He frowned, like it didn't taste good. “Manly, but quite a mouthful, if you ask me. No matter, I’ll come up with something cute. Anyhoo, you said that he was one of Kuroo’s guys? Another job, I take it?”

“Yes,” Iwaizumi managed to get out, as he watched Oikawa slip sheer stockings up his long legs. “We’ll pay you double your rate if you accept the job.”

There was a beat of silence. This needed to go well or Kuroo might have his head if he couldn't close the deal. Sugawara was watching them with bright smile, beaming like the sun. However, Oikawa regarded him with a lazy smirk, eyes raking him up and down like he was dissecting Iwaizumi, although it also looked like he was trying to fuck him with his eyes.

“Depends on the job. Will you be there?” Oikawa asked finally, pushing himself off from the counter and stalking like a cat towards Iwaizumi, who could only nod in reply. “Kuroo isn't hard on the eyes, neither is his buddy Bokuto, but you, well, I think I like the sight of you much more.” Standing right in front of him, he brought his hands up and rested them on Iwaizumi’s shoulders and worked their way down, exploring with zeal. Reaching his chest, he smiled. “Quite the Adonis, aren’t you? Downright delectable.”

“Should I leave you two alone?” Sugawara asked, smile turning into a smirk. “Unless you’d like me to watch?”

“As much as I would love to spend some time alone with him, I want to know what this job is. Money is tight right now,” Oikawa sighed, reluctantly moving away, but not before dropping his hand to give a ghost of a touch against Iwaizumi’s growing hard on. He flopped himself onto a couch that was set just off to the side and rested his head on the arm of the sofa. “So, what will I be doing for you, _Iwa-chan_?”

Iwaizumi moved to close the door, but nearly tripped as he was completely caught off guard but the sudden use of a nickname. He cleared his throat, deciding to ignore it even if it did strike a nerve, and shut the dressing room door so no one else could listen in on their conversation. “There’s a man known as Sin, you know him?”

“Know of him, but have no intention of ever wanting to get personal with the guy,” Oikawa replied, voice suddenly lacking that sensual warmth and was replaced with an icy chill. The change in tone sent shivers down Iwaizumi’s back. “He’s the guy that killed members of seven prominent yakuza families, saying that he’s wiping out traces of the seven deadly sins? ‘Doing the good Lord’s work,’ right? He killed a few friends of mine while committing the murders to represent Lust . . .” There was a flash of rage in Oikawa’s eyes, and his lips were curled back in a snarl as he seemed to be thinking of the incident. “How can I help?”

“We think he’s starting up again, Dateko recently suffered a loss and the word Envy was painted above the corpses,” Iwaizumi replied, stepping forward much to Oikawa’s pleasure. “We want to head him off before any more families lose men, good men. We may all want to blow each other’s fucking brains out, but all of us have a bone to pick with this bastard. Follow?”

Oikawa nodded, listening intently.

“We’ve found out everything there is to know about him. His name is Oni Kodaira, a prominent socialite in the Tokyo area. He can do whatever he wants because Daddy has the big bucks to cover any slip ups. He has got a weakness, though: pretty people like you. He’s hosting an event in five days, inviting all the local rich pricks. We want you to lure him into a side room and keep him busy until we can get the jump on him and deliver him to one of our warehouses.”

“You think I’m pretty?” Oikawa drawled, perking up immediately as his lips curled into a delighted giggle.

Taken aback, Iwaizumi replied, “We wouldn't come to you otherwise.”

Oikawa’s eyes slipped into a vexed glare, ( _Was I supposed to say that I think he’s exceptionally pretty? Probably wouldn't have hurt to say so_ ) but it was soon shaken and replaced with curiosity. “How are you going to make the bastard pay?”

“We’re going to chop him into seven pieces and send him to each family that lost members. He’s going to be trophies and a sign that it doesn't matter what social standing you have, if you cross us, you’ll end up on a fucking kabob. So, will you work with us?”

“Oh, I’d definitely let you fuck me right here and now,” Oikawa shuddered breathily, thoroughly pleased, “but business before pleasure.” He chuckled at the sight of carmine against Iwaizumi’s cheeks. Oikawa hummed, eyes narrowed in thought as he drummed his fingers against his thigh. “I’ll do it, but I want triple my rate if a fucking psychopath is going to lay his hands on me, even for a second.”

“We’ll pay it,” Iwaizumi quickly assured him.

“And you’ll be there to save me if the big, bad man decides to hurt me?” Oikawa batted his long, coppery eyelashes innocently. “You’ll be there to comfort me if I get hurt?”

If Iwaizumi wasn't careful, he might actually fall for the innocent and childish routine. “Yes, I’ll be nearby at all times,” he avowed. “If it starts getting out of hand, all you have to do is yell and I’ll get you out of there.” His confidence grew as Oikawa listened to him, a softer, assured smile dancing just at the curve of the luscious lips.

“You promise?” Oikawa asked.

“You can pull the trigger on me yourself if I so much as allow the bastard scratch you.”

Oikawa’s smile grew, not the poised sly smile but an honest and sweet pull of his lips, and he swung himself up from the couch, making his way towards Iwaizumi. There wasn't any moves of seduction in his steps, but calculation and thought. He held out his hand and said, head titled to the side as Iwaizumi accepted the handshake, “A handsome and honorable man. You don't meet many of those in your line of work. It’s refreshing.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss against Iwaizumi’s cheek, soft and lingering. “It’ll be a pleasure doing business with you, Iwa-chan. I think you and I will get along just fine.”

* * * * * *

The night air was crisp and refreshing as Iwaizumi, Kuroo, and Bokuto made their way back towards their car. His boss and partner were surprised that he wasn't all that drunk, having spent the last two hours at Diamonds&Sapphires nursing another two glasses of whiskey (not as good as the Isabella’s Islay, but enough to quench his thirst for the rest of the night), and mentally kicking himself every time his thoughts wandered back to the Sapphire’s eyes or moved to watch him continue to captive customers. He couldn't be busy entertaining ideas of the stripper when they would be working together on a job that would probably end with some sort of gunfight.

The problem was this: He was already attached to the man, with only speaking a handful of sentences to him. Smitten? More than likely, and with a stripper no less. He had nobody to blame but himself, but who could resist the smiles and charm, the way he so freely spoke? He couldn't get over how Oikawa had seemed to fit him so perfectly, like they were made for each other. He shook his head roughly, it was stupid to get so worked up over a pretty man with only a few hours passing between their meeting. So, he was doing his best to push his own desires from his mind as he slid into the back seat of the red Chevrolet while Bokuto and Kuroo took up the front seats.

“So, how was your evening, Iwaizumi? Drool over Oikawa the entire time?” Kuroo joked, reclining against the headrest, his hazel eyes flickering in the rearview mirror to meet Iwaizumi’s earthy green ones. _Annoyingly, he isn’t entirely wrong about that._ “You know that he's the one you're going to be working with, right? Try not get too distracted.”

Bokuto laughed and turned the key in the ignition, revving the car to life and then steering them into the empty streets. The street lamps were lit, giving the road a sickly pale, yellow glow as they drove by. Even though the club was located on the darker side of Tokyo, it was still strange to see no other cars on the road speed by in a blur.

Iwaizumi enjoyed this time of night, where you could see when everyone called it a night and finally turned off all the lights in their houses, when you could see secret lovers pull one another into their houses, where you could see the restless wander in search of something, anything to bring about a change from the mundane. He had been like that once, a wanderer that stayed up into the late hours of the night, drinking and smoking and waiting. Iwaizumi had thought that his life was just going to be a rinse and repeat kind of life. That is, until Kuroo Tetsurou, his friend from high school, found him and offered him a job after watching Iwaizumi practically descimate a bar during a drunken fight.

He had a life now, not a pretty one, bloody and gory, one of knives and bullets. He didn't mind, though. There was never a dull moment, especially with such a scheming boss as Kuroo. However, now that he had just seen the most brilliantly shining jewel, he didn't know if he could just consider never again stepping foot in Diamonds&Sapphires again. Yes, he wanted to see Oikawa again, even if he could only see him, because four days suddenly seemed like a long time to wait.

“Kuroo?” Iwaizumi asked, out of the blue and surprising his boss. “You love that Kenma, right?”

His boss shuffled his lanky body in his seat so he could turn and give his guard his full attention. His eyes narrowed, like he was trying to decipher whatever Iwaizumi could've meant by that question. “Yeah, of course I do,” he replied easily. “Why do you ask?”

“Bokuto, do you love that Akaashi Keiji?” Iwaizumi asked instead.

“More than anything!” Bokuto all but shouted. “I knew the minute I saw him that I wanted to take him out for a milkshake! When I paid for a private show for the first time, I was so nervous! I’d been to strip clubs before, but he was different! I could feel it! I’d always been fine with them touching me and just sitting back, letting them, not allowed to touch them! But when he appeared! I just wanted nothing more than to kiss him and hold him and talk to him about anything! And when I did, he didn't mind. He said he likes it when I talk!”

“Huh,” Iwaizumi murmured, thoughtfully. “What if I said that I’m wondering if I feel the same way about Oikawa?”

Bokuto slammed his foot on the break, bringing the car to a screeching halt that surely woke up anyone in the vicinity. “Iwaizumi Hajime!” he laughed, turning to face him, a big smile on his face. “You dog! You’re just like the rest of us, no matter how tough you like to act! Of course you want to make out with Oikawa Tooru, everyone does! No one is gonna blame you there, buddy! I’ve kissed him once, Kuroo has twice, though that was because we were all very drunk and playing a fucked up version of truth or dare after a job, and Sugawara and Keiji have made out with him on stage before!”

“Yeah, that was hot,” Kuroo reminisced, with a grin and an awful chuckle.

“No, that’s not what I mean!” Iwaizumi attempted to clarify, shaking his head. They looked at him curiously “I mean, yeah, I definitely wouldn't mind kissing him, but . . . Sugawara said that he doesn't just climb into anyone’s lap—”

“NO FUCKING WAY!” Bokuto and Kuroo shouted, looking at him, like he’d just said that he just saw pigs fly. “OIKAWA FUCKING TOORU GAVE YOU A LAP DANCE?!” As Iwaizumi was about to tell them that it was very short so it almost didn't count, Bokuto immediately turned back to driving, only to pull them over to the side of the road so he could listen more intently. Kuroo had pulled out one of the bags of chips he'd left it the glove compartment and was beginning to snack away, motioning for Iwaizumi to elaborate.

“Details!” Kuroo demanded. “I need to know more! This is unprecedented! Sugawara says Oikawa only lets people touch him if they have the money to. How did he feel?”

Iwaizumi blinked, shuffling under the intense, curious gazes of his friends. He was more than used to watching his friends interrogate one another about their exploits at the club, but he never thought he would be the one under fire. “I don’t even know if it counted as a lap dance. It was good . . .”

“Just ‘good’?” Bokuto scoffed, though a chuckle. “I highly doubt that it only takes a ‘good’ lap dance to get Iwaizumi Hajime invested.”

“Okay, fine,” Iwaizumi allowed with exasperation, “it was brief, way too short, but he was _there_ , choosing _me_ of all people, and it felt . . .”

“It felt right, didn't it?” Kuroo asked, smile not quite crooked but understanding. “It felt like he could fit with you, right? You wanted a lot more than just some lap dance, didn't you?”

Iwaizumi blinked at him and then stared at his feet. “Is that so wrong of me?”

Kuroo sighed and looked him. “Iwaizumi, you might want to get attached to Oikawa, take him to a fancy ass restaurant, buy him a fucking bouquet, recite Shakespeare to woo him, or even worse, fall in love with him, but . . . just be careful.” His boss huffed out a breath, running his fingers through his messy hair and continued, “It’s battle every single fucking day. You want them to come back to you, so you can feel special, like you’re the only one that really matters to them, but it’s never that simple. It hurts knowing that there are some sleazy bitches and bastards clamoring to touch what you value more than gold, ogle them like they’re some sort of rare prize you can get at an auction. You’ll want to punch every fucker who dares to say that they could fuck your boy better than anyone else, because that’s not what it’s about. It’s about them, caring about them like no one else can. You’re going to feel so selfish, wanting to take them from their job, but if you love them, it’s a sin you can easily bear. Will you feel that for Oikawa, Iwaizumi? If you don't think you will, then I don't advise diving into this. You have to be sure.”

“It’s worth it, though,” Bokuto added. “It’s hard, but I know that Akaashi is worth it to me. If you could somehow make Oikawa Tooru fall in love with you, and you love him back, then it’ll be worth it in the end.”

Iwaizumi didn't know if he could feel the way Bokuto felt about Akaashi. How could he know? Was he being stupid, wanting too much? He had never dated much in high school and didn't even step outside to actively socialize during his first and only year of college (He’d dropped out after realizing that his talents didn't quite lean on the academic side, but on something much less ordinary). Who was he to think the maybe he could give Oikawa something worthwhile?

“I don't know,” Iwaizumi admitted with a huff, reaching for a cigarette. “Maybe I’m not like you guys, maybe it was just the alcohol talking.”

He was lying. It wasn’t the alcohol, and the reason was going to be keeping him up at night for hours. He could let go of Oikawa Tooru eventually, though. All he needed to think about is how he wouldn't nearly be good enough, couldn't give enough, and the pain would wipe away what he liked to think he might have been able hold onto.

* * * * * *

_“Oikawa Tooru is a shooting star if I’ve ever seen one. He flies across the sky for all to see, bright and beautiful and something you can find yourself relying on, but the thing about shooting stars is that they always come crashing down in the end.”_

_“A special kid, is he?”_

_“You don’t find kids like him all that often. The ones that are desperate enough to become what he is now. He’s being bought left and right, so I’d get your request in while you can. His flexibility in jobs is a huge selling point that many are capitalizing on.”_

_“Doesn’t sound very scrupulous if you ask me.”_

_“Morals have nothing to do with our line of work and he knows it.”_

_“You see? That’s what’ll bring him down, plus the fact that he’s prettier than a girl.”_

_“No, it’s true that Oikawa Tooru is a pretty kid. He’ll attract a lot of attention and lusting gazes, but what’ll bring him down is if he ever gets attached to a client. That’s when it goes downhill for all of us. We can’t afford to be willing to die for someone. We live for ourselves and money, and dancing between life and death.”_


	2. Sacrificing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re no messiah. You’re a movie of the week. You’re a fucking t-shirt, at best.”  
> —Se7en

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second chapter!
> 
> (Warning: The main villain in this fic a hypocritical, homophobic, serial killer asshole who is as holy as a piece of shit, there are mentions of blood, and a gunfight. Please proceed with caution.)
> 
> I made the villain an original character because I did not want any of the good and pure rays of sunshine from Haikyuu to be even portrayed as a character like this. Even if the characters are not my favorite, I would much rather smash my head into a wall and bleed to death than make them out to be like this guy. So, instead they all hate him and want him to die. Can't say I blame them.
> 
> But on the bright side, there's some smutty parts between Oikawa and Iwaizumi in this chapter! So, there's that.

_**30/04/????** _

_Knives are the most wonderful of weapons that humans have created. Knives can cut and slice through flesh so cleanly, like you're adding accented lines to a painting. There’s such a magnificent splash of color that blooms from an open wound, and the expressions of a victim in pain or on the brink of realizing the that death is nigh is something to be treasured and remembered, through words and pictures. And then, as they lie there, you can watch the colors of life, the flush of cheeks or the spark of eyes, drain away until you see nothing but a pale, ugly shell of what used to be an individual that someone might have loved or could never be loved._

_People reveal who they truly are when they’re just a few slices or bullets away from death, and that’s what is so flawed about humanity. You don’t really know a person until you're cutting into them. So, that is why I do what I do, to discover and cut away the terrible sins of this world. In a way, I am God’s knife, cutting away at the lost sheep until only the pure remain. That is why I must send a message to those in the underbelly of the world, those who dance in establishments of loose morals for money, those who are willing to kill for enough cash to get them through the week. I must correct the ways of this world._

 

_**21/05/????** _

_Guns are such brutal weapons, uglier than a corpse. They’re loud and make such a scene, but sometimes they are all too necessary for a job to be done. For robbing a bank, taking money from the greedy lawyers and poor, a large fright will bring people to their knees. As much as I do not enjoy the use of firearms, a number of them proved to the right choice in ripping apart a disgusting club. All the screams coupled with the deafening gunshots was the most harmonious symphony of righteousness that I have ever put together. It was beautiful carnage, and I felt like a judge sending away witches to be burned at the stake. Being in control, the one who will pull the trigger, is the most scintillating feeling._

_There was a man, a pretty man, who came to see my painting a little after the police arrived. I had never seen such a broken expression in all my life. He was sobbing, making him seem so much uglier. It was like he cared for these dead. Why should he? They were nothing but scum to crushed underfoot? Why should someone so magnificent care about them? Then I saw him break into screams at the sight of what must have been his friends. They were a homosexual couple, one that I had stabbed the kneecaps of and the other riddled with bullet holes to show that he was empty of purity inside. Seeing one attempt to sacrifice himself for the other nearly made me throw up._

_But I could see a difference in how I looked at this other man, this perfect sculpture of humanity. It is fine for me to lust after him, but it is wrong for others to think the same, because I am walking the path of the right, not the path of sin. I am purer, a heaven sent soldier, not a human born with the original sin._

 

_**07/06/????** _

_Oikawa Tooru. A pity you are what you are, but perfect for a better cause, my cause. Lust, Envy, Greed, Wrath, Pride all wrapped in one pretty, little package._

* * * * * *

It’s safe to say that a majority of people have had that someone that they take one look at and temporarily fall in love with. Whether it be someone you just happen to spot in a congregation of people waiting for the bus, someone you make awkward eye-contact with at a restaurant during a family get together, or that one person who graciously held the door open for you because they were just that polite, you can often find yourself temporarily falling in love with them until you realized that you know next to nothing about the person and you try to move on from the creepy fact that you had already planned your first date out in your head. It’s easier to daydream about something magical and perfect than actually confront said cause of fantasies, because in your dreams nothing can go wrong, and you're suave and charming and downright irresistible.

For Iwaizumi, that someone he found himself thinking about going on dates with was Oikawa Tooru, or the idea of him anyway. For four days straight, he went through each of the tasks Kuroo assigned to him in an efficient rush, as if that would make the time pass by faster. It didn’t, though, and that just made the waiting even harder. Even though he had promised himself that he wouldn’t get so worked up over seeing the stripper again, and that he was going to be as professional on the assignment as he could, he found himself feeling nervous the day Oikawa Tooru was due to arrive at Nekoma Manor. Mainly because he had kept himself up late at night fucking into his hand as he imagined kissing Oikawa, holding his arms above his head as he thrust into him roughly, imagined just holding him and feeling like for once he might belong with someone.

Frightening, whimsical thoughts.

It seemed though that Oikawa Tooru was determined to pick up right where they'd left off. Late that evening, he strolled into the manor without so much as a knock, like he owned the place. He was dressed stylishly, in fitting khaki pants, an absurd shirt that read ‘ _The Truth Is Out There_ ’ underneath a royal blue double breasted coat, and turquoise converse sneakers. His toffee hair bounced as he walked with giddy steps, humming absentmindedly to himself, as eyes carefully surveyed the room, searching for something, and finally landed on Iwaizumi.

“Ah, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa greeted cheerily, skipping up to him, ignoring everyone else in the room despite its crowdedness. He looked Iwaizumi up and down and his grin grew wider. “Is that a gun in your pocket, Iwa-chan, or are you just _really_ happy to see me?” His voice had an inviting and teasing lilt to it, and it nearly made Iwaizumi think for a second about hitting him (not too hard but enough to get the point across). It was disrespectful to openly poke fun at Iwaizumi in front of his superiors. No matter how pretty Oikawa was, how perfectly irresistible he was, he shouldn't feel like he can get away with it.

“It’s a gun,” Iwaizumi deadpanned, brows furrowed in a glare. His 9mm just happened to fit in his front pocket a little snugly is all. . .

“Yeah it is.” Oikawa waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Iwaizumi’s eyes darted towards Kuroo who was sitting behind his desk, covering his mouth with his hand to hide his sniggering. “No,” Iwaizumi insisted. “It’s not an innuendo, you idiot. It’s really a gun, Oikawa, one that I can shoot you with.” That last part had just slipped out, and he opened his mouth to apologize to everyone for his rude behavior but—

“Ooh! Iwa-chan is not only handsome and honorable, but also very scary!” Oikawa laughed. “I feel safer already knowing that I have someone like you in my corner. Take good care of me, Iwa-chan. I’m precious cargo, you know!”

It seemed that there was one, solid drawback to Oikawa Tooru: he apparently had a shitty personality, completely full of himself, knew just how perfect he was. Though, Iwaizumi supposed that he had the right to be so confident. He was, after all, the most gorgeous man Iwaizumi had ever laid eyes on. Then there might have been something else off putting . . . Oikawa greeted everyone in the room with a smile that lit up the room, but Iwaizumi couldn't help but _feel_ how false it was. It wasn’t anything like the final smile he'd given Iwaizumi back in his dressing room. This one was like a mask, to hide himself and his thoughts on everyone, and to fool everyone into thinking that he wasn't nervous or even slightly put off by the job at hand.

The meeting proceeded smoothly, well almost. Iwaizumi stood in the center of the room, just before Kuroo’s desk, and Oikawa stood next to him, so close that their elbows occasionally brushed, sending sparks of electricity through his right arm. He took his notes as diligently as possible, but noticed that Oikawa made no such move, only nodding and eyes driven and focused. He thought about scolding him for not taking the job serious enough to at least make a note of something, but something inside him told him that Oikawa knew exactly what he was doing, like he'd done this too many times to be questioned. He liked this Oikawa, not to say that he didn’t like flirtatious Oikawa but this one was just as attractive, with his mouth in a thin line of concentration and the gears in his head working through every little problem they might encounter, though he still managed to crack a few jokes here and there to Kuroo and Bokuto’s joy.

It was settled, despite some negative feedback from the other members of the Nekoma family, that Kuroo and Bokuto would be joining Iwaizumi and Oikawa on the job. Taking a gander at the floor plans for where the supposed charity event was going to be held, they established a point of entry ( _“My ass!” “Wrong entrance, Oikawa.” “Is it, though, Iwa-chan? Is it?”_ ), decided on four positions for surveillance, and the room that Oikawa would attempt to lure Oni Kodaira into, where into which Iwaizumi and Bokuto would follow them, discretely of course, and take the opportunity to ambush the son of a bitch.

“Now, before this meeting is adjourned, I have to ask. Oikawa, are you certain that you’re completely fine with this job?” Kuroo asked. “No one will blame you if you back out now. We are asking a lot of you.”

Unlike the previous head of the Nekoma family, Kuroo handled each situation and hiring with care. If someone felt as if they couldn't complete a job he assigned to them, they were encouraged to persevere but were never harshly scolded if they didn’t. He thought of it as his men being smart, assessing and understanding that if they were on the job, then their nerves would get the better of them.

“Tetsu-chan, this is me we’re talking about. Of course I’ll be fine!” Oikawa shrugged, waving his hand dismissively. “If you’re that worried about me, then give me a gun.”

Kuroo looked up from the plans and stared at him, worried. “Oikawa, I know you don’t like guns. You don’t have to—”

“In the first place, can we even trust you with a gun?” Iwaizumi questioned, interrupting but with a good reason. “You seem like the kind of guy that would whip it out—” Bokuto’s snickers could be heard from across the room “—and cause a scene. Do you even know how to shoot?”

“Oh, don’t worry, Iwa-chan. I’ve seen movies,” Oikawa replied with a chuckle, his voice dripping sarcasm like honey, though he appeared far from offended. “I’m not stupid. I’m only careless when I’m drunk, and I won’t be drinking on the job, not when I’m supposed to be luring a fucking psycho to his death.” He returned his attention to Kuroo. “I’d like a weapon for reassurance. We know this SOB is smart, so we need to be smarter. He won't be expecting a weapon on me, so let’s use that to our advantage.”

And with that, it was decided that Oikawa Tooru would be given not one but two guns right before he entered the party hall, and then the meeting was adjourned with solemn agreements. Iwaizumi thought he was going to head up to his room and take a few hundred deep breaths to calm his nerves which felt aflame from just by standing near Oikawa, absorbing his presence, but instead he was instructed into escorting the source of his jumpiness. Kuroo had gifted Oikawa a hefty sum of money to go suit shopping, so the stripper could buy himself something pretty, something to make Oni Kodaira jizz his pants just at the sight of Oikawa, and Iwaizumi was getting roped into helping him find the perfect suit.

So, now he was sitting in a car with Oikawa Tooru, the Sapphire, the person that had haunted his thoughts for four days with his sly smile and disarming eyes, driving smoothly into downtown Tokyo. Oikawa was leaning his head against the window, eyes taking in the stores, people, and cars that passed by in blurs, like a badly taken photograph. They hadn't talked for a majority of the car ride, and Iwaizumi was fine with that, as it allowed him time to collect his thoughts and ready himself for whatever pick up line or innuendo Oikawa might use next, but he wasn’t expecting what actually came out of the stripper’s mouth.

“Did I do something wrong?” Oikawa asked, voice soft and vulnerable, eyes glazed and distracted. “Freak you out or something?”

“What?” Iwaizumi asked, blinking in surprise. “I don't think so, Kuroo seemed to be fine with your sugges—“

“No—no, that’s not what I’m talking about,” he stuttered, strained. He closed his eyes and moved closer towards the window, like he was trying to pass through the car door like a ghost. “I mean between us. When I last saw you, I thought we left it on a good note and I wanted us to keep that going, but you were all stiff and way grumpier today. Not that I’m complaining, you’re sexy when you’re planning a serial killer’s untimely but deserved demise, but I wanted to actually get to know you more. Stop me if I sound stupid, but I thought that maybe you liked me, actually wanted to see more of me and not just when I’m taking my clothes off for money.” His smile was a cracked mask. “Your eyes are so honest, Iwa-chan. It’s more than likely you didn’t even know you looked like that, and you don't know how amazing it is to see someone truly genuine.”

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi said, pulling the car in front of Aoba Jōsai Suits and turning off the engine. “The last thing I wanted to do was make you feel bad, so please don’t. It’s true that I find you attractive, only an idiot wouldn’t, but as long as we’re on this job I can’t get caught up in you, no matter how much I would like to actually get to know you.”

The Sapphire finally looked at him, eyes crinkling as a smile more brilliant than all the stars in the galaxy beamed at him. “So, you really do like me?”

“I do, and I would like to get to know you,” Iwaizumi confessed lamely. Baby steps. Oikawa let out a soft chuckle. “Is it weird to feel like this after we’ve only known each other for a short time?”

Oikawa leaned closer towards him and gave his nose and playful bop. “It just means we’re meant to be, Iwa-chan. We’re probably star crossed lovers from long ago that were destined to find each other once again. How romantic of us, like Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet!”

“I highly doubt that, Oikawa.”

“Then Beatrice and Benedick from _Much Ado About Nothing_!”

“And now you’re just being ridiculous,” Iwaizumi grumbled, swatting him on the arm.

“But you don’t seem to mind all that much,” Oikawa observed, titling his head to the side inquisitively. He rubbed his arm, pursed his lips, and mumbled, “I knew Iwa-chan looked tough, but I always thought that you were a big softie under the tough guy exterior, thought you were the cuddly and sappy type, not someone who likes it rough.” He saw Iwaizumi’s flabbergast expression and laughed as he opened the door on his side, “Don’t you worry, Iwa-chan, I love surprises! Shall we?”

Iwaizumi nodded and they exited the car, making their way towards the suit shop. He had been here countless times, and knew what was in store once the bell dinged at his arrival, but was a little too distracted to care at the moment.

“Do you? Like it rough, I mean?” Iwaizumi blurted out clumsily, as he held the door open for Oikawa. He mentally kicked himself. What a stupid question, why would he even think to ask such a—

“Oh, big time,” Oikawa replied, his voice low and dipping into the sultry tones that sent pleasant shivers down Iwaizumi’s spine, as he stepped in closer to Iwaizumi instead of through the door. “Slow and sensual is good too, but I like to be broken, and not a lot of people can do it. What about you, Iwa-chan? Think you can finally give me the good fuck I’ve been craving since I first saw you?”

Iwaizumi stumbled over his words, trying to find a reply witty enough to counter him, but Oikawa just laughed and breezed past him with a skip in his step into the store. Iwaizumi on the other hand gave himself a second to recover before making his way inside. Normally, this wouldn't have been a problem, however he was met with familiar chuckles at his expense coming from the cash register. As if on cue, he could feel a headache form, starting as a dull thud in the back of his skull at the thought of having to deal with these two plus Oikawa Tooru.

Matsukawa Issei and Hanamaki Takahiro, the recently engaged tailors behind every suit and tie worn by any member of the Nekoma family. Their store wasn't the largest in the world, but large enough for to show case their skills in color coordinating and obtaining rare and quality fabrics. (They were also the drop off point for many circles of smugglers.) Iwaizumi had dealt with their many talents and smug behavior before, but he now regretted bringing Oikawa here. They would probably just help the stripper continue to tease him.

“Iwaizumi, welcome back!” Matsukawa, the one with messy black hair, drawled. “What can we do for you today?”

“Let me guess, you finally shrunk out of your last suit. Am I right, shortie?” Hanamaki asked.

“I am not that short!” Iwaizumi snapped, stuffing his hands in his pockets and stomping over to them with a glare.

“You are pretty short, though,” Matsukawa stated.

“Average height!”

“Short enough to make fun of,” Hanamaki reiterated, with a shit-eating grin.

Iwaizumi was about to reach over the counter and grab the strawberry blond by the hair and knock his head against the granite counter, but a voice rang out, “Iwa-chan! Get over here and tell me that I will absolutely slay everyone at that party in this fine ass suit!” He tensed and made the mistake of meeting the eyes of the tailors, which twinkled with absolute mirth.

“‘Iwa-chan’?” Matsukawa asked slowly, lips quirking up into a smirk as Hanamaki dissolved into boisterous laughter. “Are you two together? Does he call you that when he comes?”

Iwaizumi tensed, his face surely flushed with humiliation, and hunched his shoulders, quickly turning on his heels and speeding towards Oikawa, who was still shouting for his attention. When the stripper finally laid eyes on him, a chuckle escaped, before he held up three suits and asked for his opinion with enthusiasm. “Picture me in these. Which one would make you think, ‘ _Wow, God really can make a perfect man!_ ’” Okay, now this was just ridiculous. Oikawa didn't need a fancy suit to make everyone around him drool. He could probably win anyone over in baggy sweats.

Although, it might just be that Iwaizumi was honestly the wrong person to ask about eye-catching fashion. He mainly purchased whatever fit the job, fit just right so that it looked like he were a normal suit without a gun holster just under the coat, and made him comfortable. Meanwhile, it seemed that Oikawa liked the fashion that made everyone around you jealous. He was admiring silken, patterned pocket squares and cufflinks that shined like the sapphires the stripper was named for. He seemed to be enjoying himself, commenting on the fabrics as he rubbed the sleeves between his fingers appreciatively.

“Oni Kodaira believes that _he_ is God’s perfect creation, and that’s why he thinks he can get away with murder,” Iwaizumi replied. “So, why would he think that about you?”

“Iwa-chan, humor me, please,” Oikawa insisted. He held up a sleek, black suit with formal, blue button down. “He’s gonna think I’m the best thing since Jesus Christ dying for his pathetic ass when he sees me in this one. Are there a changing rooms in this place?”

“Over here!” Matsukawa motioned Oikawa over to a back room.

Iwaizumi took a seat on a plush sofa while he waited for Oikawa to come out, and was about to light himself a cigarette when Hanamaki swiped it from his hand. Instead of kicking his shins like Iwaizumi wanted to do, he drew out another cancer stick and lit the two of them up. He took a long, contented drag and relaxed into the cushions. A lot would happen tomorrow, a lot of chaos would be stirred up in the underground criminal circuits of the Tokyo, so he was going to take this time to breathe.

“So,” Hanamaki asked, gaze towards the dressing rooms as he blew out smoke rings in puffs. “What are _you_ doing with Oikawa Tooru?”

“You know him?” Iwaizumi asked, cocking an eyebrow up at him, a cloud of smoke exhaling from his lungs.

“You’d have to be deaf to work in our industry and not hear about Oikawa Tooru, Akaashi Keiji, and Kozume Kenma,” the tailor replied, almost sounding bored. “Showed up out of nowhere about five years ago with the seal of protection from Sugawara Koushi. Not only do I know the men that smuggled them back into Japan, but I’ve tailored suits and dresses for anyone dumb enough to think that they could have a shot with him.”

“Oikawa was smuggled into Japan?” Iwaizumi had never thought that Oikawa became a stripper just to be a spoiled brat that could piss of his daddy, but had never imaged hearing something like this. Oikawa held himself like a Japanese man, though he oozed charisma, he held his head high, almost like a warrior, though he could never imagine Oikawa pulling a trigger without grimacing and clenching his eyes shut so he didn't have to see the bullet imbed itself in flesh.

“He was born and raised in Japan, but because of mysterious circumstances, he had to leave, illegally. He and his friends weren't a pretty sight coming back in. Those boys must’ve seen some real fucked up shit to look so empty like they did.” Hanamaki huffed out twin streams of smoke from his nose. “He doesn't recognize us, and that might be a good thing. He seemed like a good guy, very protective of his two friends, didn't let anyone touch them that he didn't trust. I thought he might actually bite some heads off.” Hanamaki turned back to him, swirls of smoke surrounding them like tendrils. “So, again, I’ll ask again: What are you doing with Oikawa Tooru?”

“He’s helping the Nekoma family. Since we’re known for our bloody work, a number of the families in the area agreed that we should be the ones to obtain a one Oni Kodaira, also known to many of us as Sin, and cut him up until he begs to die,” Iwaizumi explained. “There’s a charity event that the bastard is attending, we intend to intercept him there and drag his ass to a warehouse, but knows our faces, not Oikawa’s.”

“You’re sending a sacrificial lamb into a den of lions?” Hanamaki mused. “Biblical, but it’ll be good to finally be able work without having to worry about a psycho roaming the streets specifically looking for our kind.”

“Iwa-chan, prepare yourself! You won’t be able to hold back once you see me in this!” Oikawa exclaimed, walking out with long, confident strides.

He did look amazing. The suit was an inky black, clinging him to him in the right places to make him seem elegant, like he belonged at a high class social event, but seductive enough to catch the eyes of anyone. The dress shirt underneath was a deep cerulean and pressed crisp, the black shoes shined until it reflected their faces, and the cufflinks glistened like precious stones at his wrists. He spread his arms and twirled, like a teenage girl that was trying on dresses for prom, smiling broadly as he moved towards a mirror, and adjusted the black, satin bowtie.

“Ooh,” Oikawa cooed at his reflection with a wink aimed at Iwaizumi though the mirror. He pulled at the sleeves and straightened the jacket as he studied himself. “You know, I think I look better than God.”

“God is an intangible deity, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi pointed out. “No one knows what He looks like, if He even exists.”

“Then I definitely look better than him,” Oikawa replied, turning to face him with a smug smirk. “This is the one! Iwa-chan, buy it for me?” He batted his eyelashes playfully and stuck out his bottom lip in a cute pout.

Hanamaki snorted, nothing short of amused, as his did his future husband who emerged with the miniature box for the cufflinks and Oikawa’s clothes. Two sharing a knowing look as Matsukawa folded and left Oikawa’s belongings on the couch. Iwaizumi, though, had his eyes glued onto Oikawa who continued to smile at him. He didn't know if Hanamaki had been fucking with him, but this man didn't seem like the kind of person that had been through Hell and managed to come out the other side. Oikawa was a beacon, drawing others to him like moths to a flame, something you naturally gravitated towards because he seemed so open with his big brown eyes. In all honesty, it hurt Iwaizumi to think that he might have gone through a hardship hellish enough to make those eyes dull and empty.

So, even though Oikawa had meant it as a joke . . .

“How much is that one?” Iwaizumi asked Matsukawa.

He could just feel his wallet getting a hell of a lot lighter after this purchase, but it didn't matter. If something that good was what Oikawa wanted, it would be criminal not to buy it for him. He’d said back at Diamonds&Sapphires that money was tight, and that’s initially why he'd take the job. So, Iwaizumi would be a good soul let Oikawa keep the money Kuroo had given him for the suit and give him the suit as a gift.

Oikawa stared at him, delightfully bewildered. “Iwa-chan,” he chuckled, looking at tailors questioningly. “You don’t have to, Kuroo gave me—”

“100% Italian wool, twill weave, unvented, medium weight, single breasted,” Matsukawa listed off, ticking off each description on his fingers. He peeked at the tag on the Oikawa’s collar. “Comes out to a pretty penny, Iwaizumi. ¥319,783.”

Iwaizumi let out a low whistle. “Still not your most expensive one, though,” he commented, pulling out his wallet.

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa trilled, face flushed with embarrassment. “I knew it was expensive, but not this expensive! You don't have to buy it for me, all right? I’ll find another one and—”

“Oh, shut up,” Iwaizumi grumbled, holding out his card, which Hanamaki gleefully plucked out of his hands and made his way to the register, his fiancé following close behind. Oikawa gaped at him incredulously, and it was very satisfying to see that he was the one flustered for a change. “I save money like there’s no tomorrow, because I don't waste it on takeout like Bokuto does. So, relax, okay? My bank account won’t suffer from this.” In fact, he might even receive a call from the bank, inquiring as to why there was a suddenly a charge for something in such a large amount.

“Still!”

“You want to make a mass murderer want you?”

“To be honest, I’d have to say that charming the pants off a murderer is not what I always imagined to be one of my many goals in life,” Oikawa admitted with a sheepish shrug, “but I don’t really have a choice—”

“Exactly why I’m buying it for you. You’ll rock the suit and he’ll be putty in your hands.”

Oikawa finally gave him, spinning on the tips of his toes like a ballerina. “You really think I look that good?” His smile, overbrimming with confidence, returned.

Iwaizumi didn't understand why he was asking. It seemed, Oikawa looked good no matter the attire, so why was he asking for Iwaizumi’s opinion like it really mattered. A flutter in his chest wondered if it was because Oikawa thought it meant something, but it was quickly squashed. Oikawa was probably just used to being paid all sorts of compliments, and might have expected the same from Iwaizumi.

When he didn't reply, Oikawa's smile faltered for a split second before returning, that cheerful mask pissing Iwaizumi off. “Of course I look good,” he asserted haughtily. “I always look good.”

Iwaizumi scoffed, raising the cigarette to his lips again. “How on Earth are you going to seduce a murderer with that shitty, prideful attitude of yours?”

“You seem to like me just fine, Iwa-chan.”

“Seriously, though, how are you gonna do it?” He was genuinely curious. He had no doubt the Sapphire could do it, but he was curious as to the methods the stripper would use.

Oikawa grinned, revealing a slice of white teeth, as he slowly stalked towards Iwaizumi, eyes darkening into a sultry maple. “It’s all in my confidence, Iwa-chan,” he replied, sliding easily onto Iwaizumi’s lap, knees straddling Iwaizumi’s hips. “If I know that I can make a man hard with just a few words, if I know that I can make a man come with just a kiss, then I know that I hardly have to raise a finger to get someone into a bedroom or a bathroom stall with me. As long as you carry yourself as a king, people will treat as such. If you look and act like you're sex on legs, then people will trail after like lemmings.”

Iwaizumi gulped, blinking rapidly. “You’re that good of a kisser, Oikawa?”

Oikawa leaned forward until his lips were just shy of Iwaizumi’s, hot breath ghosting between them. “Do you want to find out?”

Despite the fact that it was very unprofessional, as they were going to be working together on job that could result in somebody’s death and he should wait until Oikawa wasn't working for Nekoma to make a move or a suggestion about a date, Iwaizumi found himself nodding, his eyes locked on the perfect, full lips of Oikawa Tooru.

He raised a hand, cupped Oikawa’s cheek, and closed the distance between them. It was short and sweet, and he could feel a warmth spreading throughout his chest at the thought of more, kissing harder and rougher, but Oikawa pulled away all too soon with a teasing sparkle in his eyes.

“This is a bad idea,” Iwaizumi warned, almost breathless as he stared at the Sapphire. His hand caressing Oikawa’s cheek fondly, like it was something he'd always yearned to do.

“It is, isn’t it?” But Oikawa was leaning forward again, like he was asking for more, like he wanted more too.

“We shouldn't do this—I don't want you to think that I’m taking advantage of you,” Iwaizumi continued, as his hands loosely held Oikawa’s hips. “I shouldn’t do this.” He echoed that last part mostly to himself, like he was trying to talk himself out of what he'd imagined doing or so long.

“Of course you shouldn’t.” Oikawa’s voice was like a cool breeze on a sweltering day, a wonderful feeling of comfort washing over him. This wasn’t professional of him, at all, but when he thought about it, he supposed that Bokuto would do the same with Akaashi or Kuroo with Kenma. So, as he felt the lingering buzz on his lips from Oikawa’s brief touch and inhaled the scent of lavender and mint, he decided that being professional was a bit boring, that he might indulge himself just this once.

“But, fuck, I want to do this.”

“Of course you do,” Oikawa giggled, hooking his arms around Iwaizumi’s neck, pulling them flush together. He was so hot, a furnace against Iwaizumi. “Kiss me again, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi brought their lips together once again, and immediately found that it was very different from the first kiss. Their first kiss had been tentative and experimental, like sampling a drug for the first time, but this kiss was like the quick, insatiable descent into addiction.

Their mouths slid together easily, like pieces of a puzzle finding where they finally fit. Oikawa’s lips were warm and smooth against his, velvety like he'd imagined they'd be. Iwaizumi ran his tongue along the stripper’s bottom lip was pleased to find that Oikawa welcomed him into his mouth without so much as a hesitation. He lost himself in the tingling sensation of their tongues gliding together, hot and wet, and Oikawa, with a pleased hum, tilted his head to the side deepen the kiss even further.

Iwaizumi threaded his fingers through Oikawa’s brown locks and allowed himself to smile into the kiss, finding that every hair on his head was as soft as he'd imagined it'd be, lighter feathers and softer than the finest silks. When his fingers grasped the locks with bit more force than intended, the other let out an intrigued moan and delved further into the kiss. Oikawa let his fingers dance across Iwaizumi’s chest, like he was playing a piano, then slid them to cup the other’s face as he sighed contentedly.

When Iwaizumi had to break away from the kiss to find air, Oikawa was beaming brilliantly at him, cheeks flushed, as their chest rose and fell in unison. He snagged his bottom lip in between his teeth and studied Iwaizumi, as if sensing he was going to say something.

“Guess you're not as good as you say,” Iwaizumi teased, breathlessly.

“Excuse me?” Oikawa challenged, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, I didn't come from kissing you, so . . .”

Oikawa laughed, loud and unbridled, dropping his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulders. His laugh was something to be treasured, something that he couldn't fake even if he tried, bright and merry. When he calmed down, still chuckling, he whispered, “All good things come to those who wait, Iwa-chan.”

“Hate to be that guy,” Matsukawa’s voice called out from behind the register. “But please don't fuck on our couch.”

“Yeah, only my hot fiancé and I can fuck on that couch!” Hanamaki agreed.

As Oikawa straightened himself up and smoothed the creases of the coat once again, Matsukawa walked towards them with Iwaizumi’s card and the receipt. He looked at them both and said, “Even thought the suit is yours now, please don’t ruin fabric right after purchasing it.”

“Huh,” Oikawa murmured, as he eyed Iwaizumi. “I guess I’ll just have to take the suit off then. Your place or mine, Iwa-chan?”

“The car’s closer,” Iwaizumi pointed out with a shrug. Like the gentleman that he was, he gathered up Oikawa’s clothes from the couch cushion beside him, stood, then made his way towards the front door.

“Not a very romantic spot, though, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa trailed after him, bouncing giddily on the balls of his feet.

“You want me to fuck you or not?” He wasn't necessarily losing patience, but just didn't want to have this conversation in front of Matsukawa and Hanamaki, who would undoubtedly use it against him in the future.

“Iwa-chan, you have to woo me with a wonderful and romantic scene!” Oikawa whined playfully, even though he was grinning from ear-to-ear. “Don’t you know any pick up lines? Are you too much of a brute to not know any Shakespeare? I’ll even take something as sappy and gross as Nicholas Sparks!” He skipped through the glass doors as Iwaizumi held them open for him.

“Woo him, Iwaizumi!”

“Sweep him off his feet!”

“Don’t leave Baby in a corner, Swayze!”

“Good. Bye.” Iwaizumi made a show of calling back into the store, effectively telling them to shut up, before finally moving to follow Oikawa to the car.

The Sapphire was waiting just in front of him, though, rocking back and forth on his heels, admiring the dusk sky above them. The sky was growing dimmer and dimmer, sooty pinks and dusty purples painted the sky and clouds as the sun fell. It was a comforting sight, but something that Iwaizumi immediately found comfort in. It wasn't demanding and overstimulating, but calming seeing the features of Oikawa that could sharpen into seduction or wrath (like when he’d hit that drunk with the beer bottle) soften fondly at something like the sky. In all honesty, Iwaizumi had forgotten the last time he'd looked up just because he could, but as he followed Oikawa’s gaze, a rush of relief filled him, just a few moments of peace before a storm.

 _Hear my soul speak:_  
_The very instant that I saw you, did_  
_My heart fly to your service._

(Yeah, he knew some Shakespeare. Why wouldn't he? It worked wonders whenever he had to seem professional. Quote Shakespeare and they'll think you have it all together.)

Iwaizumi’s gaze was torn from the sky, when he felt Oikawa’s soft fingers brush against his, so he reached out and took Oikawa’s hand in his own, intertwining their fingers. It was a simple gesture, but something that he could get used to. Somehow . . . they just seemed to fit together perfectly, but he feared that maybe this wouldn't last. This whole love at first sight thing had never what Iwaizumi had imagined happening to him. Why would it? He belonged to the twilight, somewhere between morals and a lack thereof. He never he deserved a moment where he could just fall in love. It didn't seem right that he would be given this chance, but now that it was here in front of him, how could he turn away?

“You don't think this is moving too fast?” he inquired, cautiously.

“Somehow it feels like this isn't moving fast enough,” Oikawa replied, finally breaking his gaze form the sky to smile at Iwaizumi, then gently began to tug him towards the car.

* * * * * *

The back of the car was cramped, left almost no room for them to maneuver, but that didn't matter. Iwaizumi and Oikawa had made quick work of discarding their clothes and throwing them up into the front to be forgotten, their mouths molded together, neither wanting to be parted for long, in searing kisses. They were, admittedly, a mess, chasing one another’s lips every time one broke for air. Slow, burning kisses that felt like dying embers on their lips and frenzied, loud kisses that were as hot as a wildfire.

Parked in a dark alley, they didn't have to worry about being seen, didn’t have to worry about being heard over the sound of late evening traffic, so Iwaizumi took full advantage and kissed his way down Oikawa’s neck, nipping possessively in soft spots that made the stripper moan ever so pleasantly. He was prideful in the fact that he could feel that this wasn’t just another act for the Sapphire, and that Oikawa really was so obedient and pliant under his touches. Releasing shuddering breaths when Iwaizumi wraps his hand around Oikawa’s hardened length and begins to pump him slowly, despite the other whining for him to go faster, go harder. But no, this was like savoring a glass of fine wine, Iwaizumi was going to enjoy drinking in Oikawa, touching him, and kissing every inch of him.

“You’re— _ha_ —enjoying this, aren’t you?” Oikawa whimpered, his face still split in a grin.

“You look good like this,” Iwaizumi replied huskily, leaning down to press their foreheads together.

Oikawa is warm, wet and hard in his hand, his cheeks and neck are flushed and rosy, his mouth agape as he pants under Iwaizumi’s ministrations, and arching into him with a moan when the pace suddenly changes from sweet and slow to rough and fast. Oikawa brought his hips up and ground himself hungrily into Iwaizumi’s hand, his fingers digging into the muscle in Iwaizumi’s shoulders.

“ _Feels_ good like this.”

Iwaizumi hummed, stealing Oikawa’s mouth once again and taking in all the hitched breaths and losing himself in the press of their lips. He felt Oikawa shift under him and suddenly the Sapphire was sitting up and sliding his deft fingers along the shaft of Iwaizumi’s cock before wrapping his fingers, one at a time and making a show of it complete with a satisfied grin, around the length and pumping in an unyielding cadence, fast and hard. At the sudden contact, Iwaizumi let out strangled moan as his hips bucked forward into Oikawa’s skilled hand.

Staring at each other, kissing, and sharing their breaths made the moment that much more intimate, like they were trying to get as close as possible, mold into one another. Oikawa came without warning, a loud, harmonic moan ripping from his throat, his toffee eyes fluttering shut, and his finger nails embedding themselves into Iwaizumi’s shoulder, but it doesn't matter because Iwaizumi was following in suit, shortly after. Seeing Oikawa’s face twisted into pleasure is enough to throw him over the edge, spilling white and hot into the Sapphire’s hands.

They were slumped against one another for a long time, panting and eyes heavily lidded like they might just fall asleep at any moment, when Oikawa laughed, “You were right. This really is a bad idea, me and you.”

“I know,” Iwaizumi murmured, pressing a kiss into the crook of Oikawa’s neck. “I’m starting to think I don’t really care if it is.”

* * * * * *

It all went downhill pretty quickly from there.

Right before the job began, just after Oikawa had walked in, Kuroo warned them. “Don’t worry yourselves with me, keep your eyes on Oikawa at all times. That’s an order, you understand me?” His men nodded together. “Believe me when I say that if we fail in protecting Oikawa Tooru, Diamonds&Sapphires will strike and strike hard. You do not want to see Sugawara Koushi and Sawamura Daichi on the warpath. We’ll have more problems than the serial killer, we might actually have an all out bloodbath in our territory.”

“Sugawara said that he’d just cut ties with us.”

“To Sugawara, cutting ties means cutting throats, Iwaizumi. I am not ready to see a live reenactment of the Red Wedding take place at my manor.”

Walking into the charity event felt like walking into a minefield, dangers looming on every front, even if it was only people with way too much money drinking way too much champagne. Iwaizumi immediately took the time to assess his surroundings while Bokuto kept an eye on Oikawa, who was doing a good impression of a vanishing act. The party hall was prodigious, high ceilings, ornate paintings lining the walls, massive chandeliers made of glass hanging high above their heads, and a buffet table that carried way too much food for any charity event that actually meant to do any good by taking place. This was simply a façade, a poorly put together cabaret, something to fool the public into thinking that the rich actually cared about those dying in less than fortunate countries.

Despite walking alongside Bokuto in suits that gave the impression that they belonged, Kuroo talking amicably with another crowd, Iwaizumi felt every muscle in his body tense at the slightest raise of a voice in the large party hall and only found comfort in the fact that he could feel his firearm at his side, a Russian Stechkin handgun that fired much like a machine gun. So, he busied himself with small talk with Bokuto, the two more than occasionally making sure that Oikawa was still within sight.

It didn't take long for Oikawa to attract the attention of Oni Kodaira. In that suit, Iwaizumi wasn't surprised, what he was surprised by was how human their target appeared. He was dressed sharply in a tuxedo that gave off a holier than thou air, and Iwaizumi found that his wavy, inky hair and icy blue eyes pissed him off, especially when they were directed at Oikawa. Their target was all charming smiles and contagious laughter, and it seemed to work wonders on the crowd that surrounded him. Though he was apparently good at entertaining multiple audiences, it was clear that he had his sights set on Oikawa, who was doing a very god job of feigning interest.

Iwaizumi was on edge, gripping his glass of water with enough force to possibly break it. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. He could feel it, and a side glance from Oikawa secured his suspicion, but it wasn't a cry for help. Bokuto had seen it and would occasionally place a hand on his shoulder and say, “Down, boy,” albeit endearingly. “He’ll give us a signal if things start getting out of hand. Oikawa knows these kinds of situations better than you or I ever will.”

“You guys really trust Oikawa, don’t you?”

“Of course we do. We have no reason not to”

Iwaizumi wanted to ask, wanted to know why everyone was placing so much faith in Oikawa’s skill sets. No one had really said a word as to why, and he wanted to pry, but he knew now wasn't the time. He’d ask Kuroo after the whole ordeal was done and past them. For now, though, he had to trust that Oikawa knew what he was doing and have faith in himself and Bokuto that they were prepared to follow through with the job. He made eye contact with Kuroo from across the room, who seemed to be just as fidgety.

Suddenly, it was just Oikawa and Oni Kodaira standing in the center of the room, and Iwaizumi couldn't help but notice how Oikawa just seemed to fit in with the surrounding. Maybe it was the suit and jewel-like cufflinks, but Oikawa could've passed for a model, a movie star, someone who really fit in with the higher class, but he wasn’t, and Iwaizumi couldn't understand why. Many women, rich women, probably set their eyes on him and he could've had any one of them, but here he was a stripper assisting the Nekoma family, yakuza, find and kill a serial killer.

Iwaizumi looked at him and thought about how Oikawa didn't belong in the dark underbelly of the world, but up here in fancy parties and in the light where all could adore him. It lead to another thought: Why hadn't Oikawa, after coming back to Japan, done something else? Why had he continued to work in a world of looser morals when he could probably do so much? Hell, he probably could've gone to America and made it on Broadway as a dancer. So, why was he here? Money? Desperation? Or did he want to stay in this side of the world? But what kind of person, who had options and was in their right mind, would stay in a world of killings with a sleight of hand, drug deals in the dark, emotionless sex in the alleys, poisons in wine, and backstabbing?

It just went even further to prove that Iwaizumi might not be enough for Oikawa, someone who deserved better than this life.

Bokuto elbowed him gently, not with the rough playfulness that he usually did. “Hey, you doing okay?”

Iwaizumi nodded with a huff of breath. “Yeah.”

Bokuto followed his gaze and laughed. “You really like him, don't you? Oikawa, I mean.”

“Am I that obvious?”

“Only because I know how you feel, buddy,” Bokuto replied, leaning against one of the pillars that lined the back walls of the room. “Diamonds&Sapphires is the home of the beautiful and we don't deserve any one of them. I know that I don't deserve Akaashi. He’s been through so much and if he continues to date me, then he might go through more. He could get hurt, but he says he loves me.”

“I just think that Oikawa deserves much more than me.” He turned to Bokuto, who immediately turned to look at Oikawa.

His partner nodded fervently in agreement. “They all do. Every single one of those dancers, the DJ, and the bartenders have been through some sort of hell and Sugawara has given them a second chance. Sure, maybe being a stripper or working for the yakuza isn't the most popular job in the world, but it beats jail or the streets because your family doesn't accept you, and that’s where most of them would be if not for Sugawara.”

“So, he’s like a guardian angels of sorts?” Iwaizumi asked. Sugawara Koushi could even looked the part with the silvery hair and warm smiles. All he needed was a pair of wings and a fucking halo to complete the look.

Bokuto laughed heartily and clapped him on the back. “With a fuckton of knives that have slit more throats than you can count, but yeah, a guardian angel, if you will.”

Iwaizumi chuckled and turned back to Oikawa so Bokuto could grab a few of the mini sandwiches passing by on shiny trays. He watched as Oikawa turned on the charm, a giving their target a seductive grin and leaning in to whisper something in his ear. Oni Kodaira smirked, who up until then had been acting like quite the gentlemen, grew a grin so predatory that Iwaizumi suddenly felt the room grow cold. However, the stripper seemed to be unaffected by it as he continued to smile, despite the wandering hands making their way south of his waist. With a nod, the two began to make their way towards the other side of the room, passing by Kuroo who gave his men a motion to follow, and they did.

At a respectful distance, Iwaizumi and Bokuto trailed after Oikawa and Oni Kodaira. However, this is where, despite their careful planning, everything went horribly wrong. The target began to lead Oikawa down the wrong hallway and up a grand staircase, and that raised the alarm in all their minds. Bokuto immediately sent out a text to Kuroo to inform him of the change in plans as Iwaizumi picked up the pace of his steps, getting closer than he probably should’ve, as it was definitely a risk of him getting caught. Although, it did allow him to see Oikawa and Oni Kodaira disappear into a room on the second floor of the venue, and watch as three guards stood in front of the door, dressed in the typical, move-style bodyguard fashion.

Iwaizumi clicked his tongue in irritation and moved past the door, Bokuto catching up and walking beside him. “Did you lose them?” his partner asked in a low voice.

“They’re just behind the monkeys in suits,” Iwaizumi replied brusquely.

“Wasn’t Oikawa supposed to lead him towards the east wing?”

Iwaizumi and Bokuto walked into an adjacent room, sending Kuroo another text describing their current location, pulling out their firearms and double checking the bullets. This wasn’t going to end well. While they waited for Kuroo to catch up to them, they pulled out the map of the building and started tracing hallways and adjoining rooms to find the best way in.

“Don’t blame Oikawa. If Oni Kodaira didn't listen to him and thought there would be a better place for them to get frisky, then Oikawa probably didn't want to push his luck and get a fucking psychopath angry,” Iwaizumi replied, stiffly. What the hell was happening in that room? His heart was ramming inside his ribcage at the thought that Oikawa just might be hurt. “The room they’re in now is an upstairs drawing room, even if the doors aren’t locked, we have four entry points to choose from.”

“I see only three doors,” Bokuto commented, pointing out the three entrances on either side of the room and way in which Oikawa and Oni Kodaira had entered.

“There’s a window if the doors are locked or there’s more heavy weight blocking our way. It’s more than likely that this place isn't reinforced with bulletproof glass.”

Bokuto gritted his teeth. “We don’t need to go around them, Iwaizumi. Let’s just blow their fucking brains out.” Leave it to Bokuto to charge in guns a-blazing, and while, more often than not, Iwaizumi would have agreed with him, this was a time for tact and assessment, not rushing in headlong. So, while the idea was very tempting, it had to be rejected.

“The only shots we take are for Kodaira, not his guards. We don't want to cause a scene yet. That’s reserved for making our escape,” Iwaizumi reminded him. “We need to get around as quickly as we can, incapacitate Kodaira and get Oikawa out of there.”

There was a knock, loud and to the beat of _Kids With Guns_. Kuroo entered, dressed in a deep crimson suit, and carrying his shiny semiauto. He huffed his messy hair out of his hazel eyes and looked at the two of them. Eyes that were often sneaky and sly were now wide and slightly frantic, the rest of his features also etched with worry. “We have an even bigger problem now,” he said. “Sugawara Koushi just called, said that Kenma hacked into the security cameras in this building because he was nervous. He can see them.”

“And?” Iwaizumi asked, panic flowering his chest unpleasantly, fear coiling in the pit of his stomach like a snake ready to strike. How had they screwed up this badly? They’d had a plan, a backup plan, but everything was going wrong. Now, Oikawa was probably being tortured by Oni Kodaira and Iwaizumi would have to pay the price. And he would gladly, but he would have preferred it if Oikawa would be able to make it through without an injury.

“We played right into the son of a bitch’s hands. We gave him exactly what he wanted.”

And that was all it took for Iwaizumi to throw his initial disagreement with Bokuto’s plan out the window. Drawing his gun, despite the words of warning from his superior, he marched down the hallway, a fierce expression of murder darkening his features.

* * * * * *

“Oikawa Tooru. Graduated from high school at the top of your class and excelled in university while you attended. Disappeared from Japan at the age of twenty, along with two others from your class, Akaashi Keiji and Kozume Kenma. Suddenly returned to Japan at the ripe age of twenty-three to work for Sugawara Koushi whilst under his protection. No one knows what you did overseas, or if they do, have been sworn to secrecy. Quite a life you must’ve lead, Oikawa Tooru. Partake in some scandals did you? Why would a pretty face like yours delve into the worst parts of the world?”

“Seriously? That’s all you found on me? I’m disappointed, really. I didn’t make a name for myself so that a lowlife like you could just gloss over it.”

Oni Kodaira sat across from Oikawa, a sick smirk stretching across his elastic face, talking like a snake hissed. He caressed the stripper’s face with a shiny, thin blade, like an icepick, humming lightly to himself. “A pity, really. You have such a pretty face . . .” There was a sharp prick of skin and Oikawa could feel a small stream of blood run down the side of his face, but he didn't flinch, only met the murderer’s eyes with a stubborn expression. His mind was running a thousand miles an hour as to what he was going to do to this bastard. As he looked at him, flashes of his dearest friends covered in their own blood and mutilated almost beyond recognition went through his mind, making anger unfurl within him.

He couldn't move, though, his hands bound by handcuffs, securing him to the, albeit, comfy chair. It was a good thing too, or he would’ve already tackled the psycho to the ground and strangled him until his eyes popped out of their sockets. So, he would bide his time until he could break free, or Iwaizumi came to help him escape and riddle Oni Kodaira with bullet holes (even if that was something he wanted to do himself, for Yahaba and Kyotani). “If you’re so interested in my pretty face, why are you marring it?”

Oni Kodaira sneered at him, delivering another swift slice of the knife across Oikawa’s cheek. “Because you’re filthy,” he snarled. “You’re the embodiment of sin, Oikawa Tooru. A man or woman takes one look at you and can’t help but wish that you were theirs, even if they’re married. You bring about adultery. You send people flying into the sinful arms of Lust, drive them to Greed.”

“I’m just that good I guess,” Oikawa shrugged, remaining in control of himself despite the burn of the wounds on his cheeks. They weren't deep enough to scar, but Sugawara would definitely be cross when he saw them, and that shook Oikawa more than the serial killer in front of him. “So, let me guess, Oni Kodaira, you want to carve me up as another symbol of your pathetic crusade to wipe out the wicked of the world?” The man smirked triumphantly. “You don’t scare me. I’ve seen people just as pathetic as you, worse than you. I’ve come face-to-face with mass murderers, terrorists, and lowly serial killers like yourself. They didn't frighten me then, and you won’t frighten me now.”

“You’re not afraid of my righteousness?” Oni Kodaira lifted the knife away from Oikawa’s face in order to lick off the blood, like he was licking frosting off a cupcake. The sight made Oikawa shudder involuntarily, just at how disgusting the act was. Now, that was definitely creepy if nothing else about the man was.

Oikawa regained his composure with a deep breath and replied, “I’ve read the Hunchback of Notre Dame, and let me tell you, the guy who is delusional enough to believe that he’s purer and more righteous than others dies in the end, thrown off the church in the town he thought he could rule with religion as his sword. Now, I may be overstepping some boundaries here, but I see something quite similar in your dismal future.”

“If you’ve read the book, then you know that Esmerelda dies in the end as well.” Oni Kodaira leaned closer to Oikawa, using his hands to lean on the arms of chair, like he was caging Oikawa in. “If I die here, then you’re coming with me. Who knows? Maybe God will grant me mercy and offer for me to watch you descend into Hell where you belong.”

“Says the delusional serial killer,” Oikawa muttered. He played with the wires in his sleeve and slid them down to his restraints. Moving so subtly was strenuous, but he had mastered the art of keeping others busy.

“Says a preacher with a purpose, you mean. I’m not just killing because of a traumatized childhood or simply because I find joy in the killing, Oikawa Tooru. I am showing Japan what happens when you throw away God. You, and those like you, have fallen, much like Lucifer from Heaven, will face flame and eternal damnation.” He leaned back and chuckled. “Your friends weren’t nearly as talkative as you. Then again, they were too busy getting fucked and their throats slit or crippled with bullets to make good conversation.”

Biting back the words on his tongue, he thought bitterly, _This use of ”religion” is his shield, a flawed defense, but this is how he justifies what he does. Religion as an excuse to do whatever the fuck he wants._ It was despicable. There were those who believed and did good by their belief, and then there were snakes like him who took advantage of faith and warped it to fit their own philosophy, so they could still sleep at night despite the number of terrible things they've done.

After hearing that, Oikawa decided that he’d had just about enough of waiting and listening. Kuroo was always one to wait for the opportune moment, but now was the right time to strike and kill. Oikawa could feel his blood sing a song of fear and thrill at the idea of taking up a gun once again. He finally felt the restraints loosen and he took a deep breath, letting the handcuffs fall to the ground. Looking up, he drank in the sight of Oni Kodaira’s petrified confusion, the sight of his eyes darting from Oikawa to the fallen restraints.

Reaching inside his jacket, Oikawa pulled out the Beretta M92 twins that had been lying in wait, digging into his sides like they were begging for his attention. Oni Kodaira, sensing that he was in trouble, swore under his breath and retreated towards the door and exited as quickly as he could. “Fine by me,” Oikawa taunted, listening to the satisfying clicks of metal from the guns. “It always was much more fun when they ran.”

* * * * * *

_“They tried shutting us down again.”_

_“They can’t. Their bark is much worse than their bite, I assure you. They can’t lay a finger on us.”_

_“They’re the fucking cops. They have the DA, judges, juries on their side, and people all around the fucking globe hate guys like us. They can lock us up and will if they want to!”_

_“Calm down. The cops here think we’re useless, desperate, pathetic scum, when in fact we’re far more powerful than they are. They can act high and mighty with their uniforms and parade around with what little power they possess, but when it comes right down to it, they will rely on those with looser morals to complete a job that require’s a killers hands. We create the perfect catastrophe they need, and they still place the blame on us so their frailty isn't brought into the spotlight. The truth is that they’re frightened of us, and they should be. The jail cells and barbed wire fences they place us in are nothing. It’s much like keeping wild panthers in a cage of flimsy string. They can’t hold us. They never have and they never will.”_

* * * * * *

Seeing a grown man run for his life was nothing new to Iwaizumi. He had chased many a guilty party through the streets of Tokyo, watched as they somehow evaded bullets like he had the aim of a damned stormtrooper. He had listened to them sneer, mock him, and throw stuttered obscenities from a distance, that is until he was pinning them to a brick wall and firing a bullet into the back of their head. However, for all his intimidation, Iwaizumi had never in his life seen a man run like Death was just a few steps behind, white as a sheet and screaming gibberish at the top of his lungs. Later on, he would find the situation amusing and would have a good laugh about it with his friends, but at the moment, the abrupt appearance of their target bursting through the door he’d disappeared into with Oikawa was more shocking than anything.

Oni Kodaira, the malicious serial killer known as Sin that had struck fear into the hearts of many a yakuza with his gruesome displays of gore, burst from the room screaming for his men to shoot. He tripped and fell onto all fours as his men closed the doors behind him. He opened his mouth to warn them, but two shots rang out, piercing and deafening to untrained ears, and blood erupted from the back of their heads as they promptly fell to the ground with a sickening **_THUMP!_** Crimson slowly began to pour from their heads and pool around them.

Oni Kodaira scrambled to his feet with a curse and ran.

Oikawa stepped out of the room, footfalls quiet and eyes steeled in forbearance, both of his guns raised to frame his alarmingly composed face, which was now marred with two matching slices across his cheeks. Droplets of blood still shined in the wound, threatening to fall and further mark his pretty face with red. He didn't look like the Sapphire, but like Hanamaki had described, cold and dead brown eyes taking in his surroundings. He looked like a killer, his fingers flexing comfortably around the Berettas like he knew the easy give of the trigger was. He reminded Iwaizumi of Kuroo whenever his boss was in the midst of a gunfight.

When their eyes met, Iwaizumi half expected Oikawa to give out a playful cry and mourn the scratches on his face as he let them chase after Oni Kodaira, but was met with a calculating glare, unapologetic and disarming. Any other time Iwaizumi had looked into Oikawa’s eyes, he had seen stars of gold and silver, but here they were a black hole, obsidian and consuming. He was angry, obviously, but not at them. Iwaizumi knew that something Oni Kodaira said triggered this violent outburst from Oikawa and now he was on a rampage of sorts, and something told him that it would be difficult to try and stop him.

When no moves were made to stop him, Oikawa turned and darted after Oni Kodaira. He was fast too, like a hungry cat chasing a mouse. It was then that Iwaizumi finally regained control of his mouth and tried to shout something, but he didn't get a chance to get anything out, as Bokuto and Kuroo raced past him, their boss barked out another order. “Iwaizumi, catch Oikawa right fucking now!”

As he always did and was paid handsomely to do, Iwaizumi responded to his orders. Joining his boss and partner, they followed Oikawa as he turned to run down the stairs. On the lower floor, they could hear people shouting and Iwaizumi risked a glance, seeing more men dressed in suits drawing their firearms and aiming them at Oikawa. At the sight of the weapons, the innocent bystanders in the crowd screamed and swarmed out the doors in mass of panic. Stopping and cocking his own gun, Iwaizumi shot at the men, nailing three right in the chest before racing to catch up with Bokuto and Kuroo again. His own legs moving so fast he swore that his feet weren’t even touching the ground.

He was worried, to say the least. Oikawa was out there with singleminded determination to kill Oni Kodaira, even if it meant his own death. Vengeance is something that Iwaizumi understands, having lost one his own men to the killer, but this was still insane. Especially with Oikawa being, for all he knew, untrained in gunfights.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Oni Kodaira reach the bottom of the staircase and stare up at Oikawa who stood on the threshold of the steps. He sent a disgustingly victorious sneer in the Sapphire’s direction as he cowered behind one of his men. However, Oikawa just wrinkled his nose and dashed down the stairs, using the railing to avoid the barrage of bullets flying towards him. Kuroo swore colorfully at the sight and they descended down the stairs to try and reach the Sapphire. Realizing that he was about to be cornered, Oikawa leapt over the banister, found sound footing on a table just below, and then rolled to hide behind it.

“Oikawa! Stop or we won’t pay you in full!” Kuroo shouted, a weak threat given the circumstances. As they suspected, he went ignored. Bokuto grabbed his boss by the collar of his shirt and yanked him down to find refuge from the bullets. “Goddamnit,” their boss hissed, as Iwaizumi counted the number of bullets he had left. He was expecting a gunfight, but had not expected it be something like this. “I knew this was a risk, but I didn’t think that he would be so willing to be seen attempting to kill Sin.”

Iwaizumi could only imagine his boss’s dilemma. Oni Kodaira death sentence was signed by prominent yakuza families, an agreement that not many were willing to strike out against, and the kill was supposed to be carried by yakuza hands. This isn't something that any of the families would take lightly, and Kuroo would be under heavy fire for it, even if he did understand where Oikawa was coming from with this outburst.

“Oikawa doesn't have a face in the public eye,” Bokuto reminded Kuroo. “He can do whatever he wants because the cops won’t point the finger at him even if they know it was him.” He huffed and checked his own gun. “We should just let him do this. We can’t stop him so why try to? He’ll just shoot us if we try and get in his way. So, let’s just cover his stupid ass so he can finish the job himself.”

With that said and Kuroo not bringing up any further objections, Iwaizumi and Bokuto both jumped up and began to shoot down the men between Oikawa and Oni Kodaira. They had been in situations like this before, the two patterns standing side by side and mowing down enemies, tossing each other magazines to reload, each counting the bullets the other fired. They really were born to kill and serve under the yakuza, even if they didn't always know it, able to read to layout of a fight within an instant and understand what needs to be done and what people need to fall in order for them to rise.

Oikawa leaped out from behind the table and moved forward, his path being cleared by Iwaizumi and Bokuto’s cover fire. He evaded enemies and rolled away from attacks like Iwaizumi never would have believed if you’d told him, and was advancing quite quickly on Oni Kodaira.

Iwaizumi had seen the Sapphire dance, and that was arousing, but seeing Oikawa weave between tables to finally leap up, grab the target’s face, and slam it into the tile flooring with a sickening _**CRASH!**_ was infinitely better. It seemed like this was even more his element than a stage, dressed in a fancy suit and carrying M92s, like he was James Bond. He then stood up straight and stepped on Oni Kodaira’s throat, pressing down until they could hear the strangled gasps for air as the final sounds of gunshots faded from the room.

Kuroo practically flew down the steps, Iwaizumi following just behind him.

Oikawa was smirking, cruelly, an expression enough to make even Iwaizumi falter in his steps, his blood running cold. The stripper aimed the two guns at the victim beneath his foot and said, “Yahaba Shigeru and Kyoutani Kentaro,” he seethed through his teeth, trying to maintain a steeled appearance, though Iwaizumi could see the firearms trembling from his tight grip. “They didn’t deserve to die, especially not for your pa-fucking-thetic excuse for a pilgrimage.” The pressure on Oni Kodaira’s throat increased, making the man squirm helplessly as he clawed at Oikawa’s leg. “Anything I do to you will never be enough to avenge them.”

Kuroo was about to step forward, but Iwaizumi stopped him. His boss sent him an argumentative look, but didn’t press on. Harsh reprimands weren't going to help Oikawa now. Iwaizumi could see that Oikawa needed to do this, more so than any other yakuza member. They all lived and died on a regular basis, but Oikawa could be allowed to grow attached to others, seek refuge and comfort in friends. His loss was more devastating, like losing a piece of himself, while the yakuza saw it of a loss of assets than anything strictly emotional.

Oikawa pulled the triggers, loud gunshots echoing throughout the lavish yet empty banquet hall, and unloaded a barrage of bullets into his victim, making the body seize like it was being electrocuted as blood began to pool around the corpse. People outside shrieked at the violent sounds, and in the distance came the familiar sound of police sirens. Even after he was out of bullets, Oikawa was stilling pulling at the triggers helplessly, eyes losing that cold distance and replaced with a glassy vulnerability. He was quaking, shivering like a leaf, as he stared at the weapons in his hands, like they were searing into his flesh.

Iwaizumi approached him carefully and swiftly ripped the guns from his hands, casting them aside and moving him away from the body. “He’s dead, you can stop. It’s fine now.” Oikawa leaned into his hand which was placed on the small of his back, not so much in pleasure but in seeking comfort. He suddenly seemed so small, his back haunched and eyes cast downwards still looking at the guns like they were pointed at him and loaded. His fingers were twitching nervously, like he was looking for a lie to latch onto.

“Oikawa—” Kuroo started. Iwaizumi could tell that he wanted to scold the stripper but decided against it, instead opting for, “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”

“Do these fucking look like strawberry jam to you?” Oikawa retorted monotonously as he motioned to the parallel slices marring his face. He looked up at Kuroo and gave him a defiant stare, crossing his arms and standing tall, but his voice still shook with raw emotion. “He killed my friends, _Tetsu-chan_. I was taking part in some well deserved anger management, so I’m not really all that sorry about this.”

“You’re never sorry, Oikawa. Such was the nature of your previous occupation.” The words were harsh and made the Sapphire flinch like he was slapped across the face. Kuroo seemed to immediately regret his words and gave his friend a soft punch to the shoulder and said, “You had as much right as us to him, Oikawa. I suppose you did save us the trouble of having to listen to him spew religious nonsense. The question now is: How are we going to get the limp dick out of here without the cops hounding us too much.”

Bokuto walked forward, shoving his gun back into its holster, a slight skip in his step. Killing for the job had never really bothered him, it was necessary to win. He was loyal to Kuroo and would what he needed to help his boss and the family rise to above the other yakuza families, and that meant understanding and carrying brutality at your side like it was your friend. “I’ll carry him!” he supplied. “There’s a back door, right?”

Kuroo nodded, exhaling harshly through his teeth and ruffling up his already messy, raven black hair. His men were pleased to find that he wasn’t giving Oikawa a harsher talking to like they expected from him. Though, they knew that they were going to be in for it once Sugawara saw the slices on Oikawa’s face. “Iwaizumi, take Oikawa and pull the car around to the back. We’ll load Oni Kodaira into the trunk. Bokuto will drive us out and you can do your best to tend to your new squeeze’s little scratches.”

Iwaizumi sent him a deadly glare, a warning not to say another word, seeing the comment as completely uncalled for. Nonetheless, he obeyed, just as he was paid to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I hope you able to enjoy, at least, a little bit of this. I really hate writing Oni Kodaira (I had to stop and breathe for a couple hours in between writing the scenes with him and the journal entries because he disgusted me that much), so I'm really glad he's dead and now we can move onto much more pressing matters like getting Oikawa and Iwaizumi together so they can be cute yakuza and stripper couple they were meant to be.


	3. Existing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist. And like that, poof, he’s gone.”  
> —The Usual Suspects

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, after this chapter we have about two more to go before we get into the one shots! And, yay, Hinata and Kageyama will finally make their appearance, as well as Akaashi and Kenma! I hope you enjoy reading this!
> 
> (Warning: There is no direct contact with drugs in this chapter, but there are mentions and some symptoms are portrayed, like red tinted eyes, paranoia, trembling, and nosebleeds due to an overdose. There is also a gunfight.)

Oikawa Tooru’s apartment was far from what Iwaizumi expected. There were no decorations lining the walls, no pictures of family or friends, furniture basic at best, and the all around size of the place was small, very quaint. It was the kind of living space that Iwaizumi associated with someone who would pack up and vanish in the blink of an eye, like they never existed in the first place. Given Oikawa’s playful and flirtatious demeanor, he had expected a much more cozy living space, filled with trinkets and trophies, but this apartment didn't look like it actually belonged to the owner. Instead, the only thing connecting it to Oikawa, was the mingled smell of lavender and mint wafting through the air, but it was fading, like a scar after many years.

As Iwaizumi paced around the apartment, his brow fixed in a glower, he couldn't help but see how fake it was. This wasn't where Oikawa considered home to be, it was a pit stop until something inevitably made him run away again. Iwaizumi ground his teeth. Nothing was enough for him, was it? Oikawa wanted too much, wanted to save the world, be a hero, but he was like Iwaizumi something darker than shadows and deadlier than a knife. People like them just weren't meant for a spotlight.

Iwaizumi had been searching and waiting for weeks now, hoping that maybe he had been enough to keep Oikawa here, but as time passed it seemed like that was growing less and less likely. He couldn't believe that he'd woken up here just a month ago to this place feeling so empty, and still felt like that now, as the presence of Oikawa was slowly fading from it. Stumbling in here for the first time had been a mess of hot lips, desperate hands, and sweet moans. It had seemed so open then, and now it felt closed off, like he was trespassing. Though someone had to take care of this place while the owner was gone.

Oikawa Tooru had disappeared the morning after the job and Oni Kodaira’s death. Iwaizumi remembered the last few hours of that last night wth Oikawa, when he had felt so real and tangible, and not like a trick of smoke and mirrors.

_He remembered leaving Bokuto and Kuroo and walking with Oikawa up to the apartment. Though he wasn't good at comforting words, he had figured since they'd jerked each other off, he wouldn't be the worse company Oikawa could ask for. He could’ve possibly provide some comfort in just being there with him._

_As soon as they had walked inside the complex, though, Oikawa had been all over him, kissing him roughly and pulling at his hair demandingly, his hips rolling roughly into Iwaizumi’s. He probably should have said no to him, but Iwaizumi had gotten the distinct feeling that he would never be able to refuse Oikawa anything, in the present or the future. Instead, he’d just let himself be swallowed up by the dancer’s hot, intoxicating mouth on his. Walking up the stairs would’ve proven to be difficult, so they had opted for the elevator. Pinned against the metal wall, Iwaizumi was completely defenseless to the onslaught of sloppy, hot open mouthed kisses going from his mouth to his neck and up to his ears, spreading a volcanic warmth throughout his entirety._

_He remembered that the apartment had been so dark when they'd stumbled in like they were drunk, but Oikawa had shined like a star. He had thought he should say something then about the previous events, so he’d tried, “Oikawa—”_

_He had been cut off by Oikawa’s hand roughly tugging at his belt and zipper. Soon his pants had been a circle at his feet and Oikawa’s hot breath fanned across thighs, a feather light tease, further stirring his cock to life. “Don’t wanna talk. Just fuck me until I can’t feel anything, Hajime, please.” Iwaizumi hadn’t even felt slightly embarrassed about how his dick had bounced eagerly at the words._

_He remembered Oikawa’s warm, wet mouth taking him in, tongue swirling around the head of his cock in nonsensical patterns and licking at the underside and down the shaft, drawing groan after groan from the back of Iwaizumi’s throat._ As he scanned the apartment now, _he could still feel Oikawa’s fingers digging into the skin on his tawny thighs, the brown eyes blown wide and staring up at him, half lidded as if in a daze. He remembered the hands massaging his legs, making him weak, like he was on the verge of collapsing, as Oikawa licked up the drops of precum like he was licking a lollipop._

_He remembered Oikawa taking his hand and leading him into the bedroom, with pleading eyes. He remembered meeting Oikawa’s lips once again before he was yanked onto the bed, kissing him like he might never kiss him again. For a few minutes, Iwaizumi understood that Oikawa doesn't want to exist. He might not know who Oikawa really was, hadn’t even really cared at that time, but had seen that Oikawa was in discomfort and this was how he wanted to remedy the pain inside him. So, while Iwaizumi had wanted this to mean more, he’d shown no signs of resistance, and had allowed Oikawa to use him as a distraction from whatever he had been hiding from._

_He remembered kissing all of Oikawa’s skin as it was revealed when he peeled away the layers of the suit. He remembered Oikawa telling him to hurry, that he couldn't wait any longer. He remembered the cold dollop of lube and rubbing it between his fingers before sliding one into Oikawa and then another and another shortly after that. He remembered Oikawa writhing beneath him, taking hold of his wrist and trying to push Iwaizumi’s fingers further into the heat, and mumbling incoherently as Iwaizumi bit down on the soft skin of his inner thighs, scissoring his fingers. He remembered curling his digits, brushing up against that spot that sent Oikawa keening and throwing his head back into the mattress, and smirking in satisfaction as he kissed the moans off Oikawa’s lips._

_“I want you—To feel you, Iwa-chan, please!”_

Iwaizumi found that he needed to sit down as he remembered their night. He sat at the edge of the bed and gave it an accusing glare, feeling a heavy, irked sigh escape him that somehow lifted a weight off his chest. Of course he was angry, why wouldn't he be? Was it so terrible of him to think that since they’d had a quick yet intimate night that maybe Oikawa might feel that there was something between them? Something worth holding onto or exploring? Maybe he was just an idiot who had made the mistake of falling in love with Oikawa Tooru and was now just something else to be left behind. Whatever the case was, he was here now, stuck in a downward spiral of falling further and further in love, even if the Oikawa Tooru might be continents away at this moment.

_He remembered being flipped onto his back then he’d shifted to sit upright, resting his back against the headboard of the bed as Oikawa sank down onto him, a strangled moan escaping him. He was dazzling, bewitching to gaze at. His face had been flushed deliciously with sweat glistening off him like diamonds, lips parted as he panted, and eyes fluttering shut. Without allowing time for him to adjust and without warning, his hips had rolled forward unrelentingly, and he was riding Iwaizumi. “H-Hajime—Oh god!”_

_Iwaizumi hadn't been able to resist leaning forward and pressing a hot trail of kisses down the column of the Sapphire’s neck, occasionally nipping and leaving faint pink, kiss marks. He had gripped Oikawa’s hips and thrust upwards to meet him in rough and ceaseless pace, thrusting in deeper and harsher, like he had been trying to break Oikawa. He could still feel the tight grip of Oikawa’s hands using him like anchor as their bodies rolled and slapped together messily._

_“Say I’m beautiful, Hajime.” The words had caught Iwaizumi off guard, but Oikawa had stared down at him, eyes begging and wide. At first he’d been at a complete loss. Oikawa had undoubtedly been called beautiful before, so why would it have mattered when Iwaizumi offered the same compliment? As if sensing his doubt, Oikawa had slammed his hips down so harshly Iwaizumi had seen stars, like he was desperate to feel all of Iwaizumi inside him. “I want to hear you say it, please.”_

_Pride had swelled in Iwaizumi’s chest and his pace increased, pounding into Oikawa like his life depended on it. “God, Oikawa, you feel so good, look so good,” he’d moaned, low and gruff, reaching between them and beginning to stroke Oikawa’s leaking cock, swirling the beads of precum across the stripper’s cock. “So good, so good! I can’t believe you’re so beautiful, so incredible . . . Tooru. My Tooru.” When the words had slipped out, Iwaizumi had worried that it would ruin everything, that it have overstepped a boundary, make Oikawa feel something he wasn’t ready, but saying the name had felt right, like it was something only he had done and that a moment like this belonged to them and only them._

_Hearing his name, hearing that he was Iwaizumi’s, Oikawa had moaned erotically. The sound hiccuped in his throat when Iwaizumi matched his hard thrusts to his quick and fast strokes. “Hajime—Yes, there—r-right there!” he’d cried, as Iwaizumi found that spot that caused Oikawa to practically scream, and thrust in and out so quickly that the other could only gasp, blunt nails digging into soft yet muscled skin of Iwaizumi’s chest and shoulders, creating red crescent moons in the tawny velvet._

_Iwaizumi had surged forward, pinning Oikawa to mattress as the dancer came, clenching wet and hot around his length. He’d worked Oikawa’s cock and fucked him through the orgasm, his own hips snapping forward hungrily, possessively, the pressure building inside him and reaching a breaking point. His own rhythm had become more erratic and stuttered, finally coming hard enough to make his limbs tremble, still moving despite feeling spent, Oikawa moaning loudly with sensitivity, but like he had still wanted more._

_And Iwaizumi had been willing to give that to him._

_“Tell me I’m beautiful, Hajime. Say it again. I want to hear you say it again. Say you won’t regret me.”_

_“Oikawa, believe me when I say I’ll kill myself before I even think about regret someone as beautiful as you.”_

Iwaizumi shook the thoughts from his head and immediately left the apartment, grinding his teeth together. He needed smoke and alcohol, to dampen down the urge to just get on a boat and look outside Japan. Kuroo and Bokuto would've both had his head for a reckless move like that. (However, with friends like Hanamaki and Matsukawa, he could easily sneak in and out of the country with no problem.)

Breathing in the outside air, Iwaizumi didn't know why he was still trying, still looking, but he was. The minute he’d woken up alone in Oikawa’s apartment, his resolve had been set in stone. He was going to find Oikawa Tooru and they were going to have the fucking talk. Oikawa was going to tell him who he really was, why he was so afraid of guns, and Iwaizumi was going to tell him that if Oikawa really was going to run off again, to least take Iwaizumi with him.

* * * * * *

“How long are you going to let this bother you, really?” Kuroo queried, sometime during the second month. He didn't sound nettled, but he didn't sound particularly pleased with Iwaizumi either.

The head of the Nekoma family was lazily looking through and signing off on paperwork, some relatively domestic, water bills and such, and others . . . not so ordinary. Currently, the one in front of him was agreement with a smuggling company that wanted to do business with them, something about trading them illegal firearms from America in exchange for protection whenever they conducted business in Tokyo. It seemed reasonable enough, and they were willing to pay a pretty penny too. However, Iwaizumi could easily see that Kuroo wasn't particularly focused on the trade agreement at the moment.

“You know what I think is great, Iwaizumi?” his boss continued. “Whenever everyone in a family works together like the various systems of the body. You know, the circulatory system, respiratory system, etcetera, etcetera, all working to keep the flow of blood and oxygen as smooth as possible so the brain can function at top capacity.” Kuroo always was a science fanatic, especially in high school when he didn't know whether or not he was going to succeed the Nekoma family. Iwaizumi had always bugged him for helping concerning their homework in high school. “However, it always is a problem when one of those systems isn't working at its full potential,” he lamented mockingly, giving Iwaizumi a leveled look. “You’ve been off your game. You’re distracted, Iwaizumi, and I need you working at full throttle so we can maintain our frightening reputation.”

“I’m not distracted,” Iwaizumi ticked off, refusing to make eye-contact with his boss.

He checked his phone for the umpteenth time since arriving in Kuroo’s office and sitting in the plush chair in front of the grand, spacious desk. (He didn't know why he was hoping Oikawa would call or text, they hadn’t ever exchanged numbers, but something told him that Oikawa was more than capable of obtaining it somehow.) He felt like the rebellious kid sent to the principle’s office that didn't really care whether or not he was actually in trouble. In all honesty, given Kuroo’s demeanor, he had nothing to be anxious about. He had seen Kuroo give out warnings, brutal and bone chilling. Yamamoto Taketora and Haiba Lev, two loud foot soldiers, had been on the receiving end of these conversations more than once and had left looking like Kuroo had just murdered one of their own family members before their eyes.

Iwaizumi leaned forward, plucked one of Kuroo’s crystalline glasses off the desk, also grabbing the bottle of moderately expensive whiskey and poured himself a healthy helping. After taking a long swig and enjoying the comfortable burn down his throat, he voiced, “I am completely focused on the task at hand.”

“Ah, yes, your noble hunt for the one and only elusive Oikawa Tooru,” Kuroo laughed. The seriousness from earlier disappeared and the room felt lighter. He knew Iwaizumi wasn't stupid and that there was no point in deterring him, plus he was a good man who always completed his work, whatever was asked him. Why not give him a little leeway every once in a while? It was well deserved by now. However . . . “I don't really understand why you're so dead set on being so worried about him. One look at Oikawa and you know he’s the type to run off on some grand adventure without a word of warning, especially when he needs to.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want him to,” Iwaizumi admitted pathetically. “I wanted him to stay right here so I could make sure he was all right.”

“From what you told me of your _scintillating_ night together, it sounded to me like he was just fine. You’re just being selfish,” Kuroo speculated, voice irking with that knowing tone of his.

“How? Because I want some closure?” He grunted, sitting up straight, and downed the rest of his drink, then reached for a refill like it was medicine. “Oikawa’s the one to run off without so much as a goodbye after we fucked, leaving me to take the walk of shame home, and I’m the selfish one?”

“Kind of, yeah,” Kuroo replied like it was obvious, pushing aside the paperwork, picking up his glass of Cabernet Franc, and swirling the red liquid inside it absentmindedly. “You two aren't actually an item yet, if you ever will be. You’ve only jerked each other off with feeling and fucked a grand total of once, right? That doesn't mean he belongs to you.”

“I know that,” Iwaizumi allowed, with a hint of a growl. “I know I’m not entitled to anything from him. I just thought we had something, you know?”

“I was in a boat sort of similar to yours, Iwaizumi. Believe me, you do not want to hear about my uphill battle with Kenma,” Kuroo shared. “I thought he and I had a connection after Sugawara introduced the two of us, but he was scared of me for the longest time, only able to be in the room with me if either Akaashi and Oikawa were there as well. I wanted to take up all his time, but until he said so, I knew I wasn’t going to budge an inch despite every fibre of my being screaming at me to grab him and hold him. I understand why now, but I still felt like I was owed something when I wasn’t, which was wrong of me. You know, he kept saying he didn't like my eyes.”

“They are unnerving.”

“My eyes are sexy, thank you very much.”

“You look like a mad scientist, dissecting me in your head right now.”

“As long as I’m a scientist.”

A knock interrupted the banter, and Bokuto stepped through, accompanied by one of the dancers from Diamonds&Sapphires. He was tall and lithe, pretty with messy, inky hair and greenish blue eyes that seemed incredibly collected for someone conversing with Bokuto. (As much as Iwaizumi valued the work he did with his partner, but sometimes talking with Bokuto made him want to yank his hair out.) He was dressed in a pair of form fitting jeans and a t-shirt that Iwaizumi knew definitely belonged to Bokuto. He was definitely the opposite of Bokuto who was loud, with tall dyed hair and wild golden eyes.

The dancer regarded them both before nodding respectfully to each, like this was some formal event.

“Akaashi! This is a pleasant surprise. I haven't seen you in a while,” Kuroo greeted cheerily, standing up to welcome the newcomer.

“Bokuto-san is very much an attention hog,” Akaashi replied evenly, sending a small smile in Bokuto’s direction when his boyfriend let out an ugly sound, mouth practically dropping to the floor. Finally, his leveled gaze landed on Iwaizumi and he approached with a strange combination of reservation and confidence. “Now, I know Pain-in-the-ass Kuroo-san,—“ now it was Kuroo’s turn to make an indignant noise while Bokuto cackled “—but, please forgive me if I get this wrong. You’re Iwaizumi Hajime, right? I’m Akaashi Keiji.”

“That’s me,” Iwaizumi replied, as they shook hands. So, this was the famous Akaashi Keiji that Bokuto was absolutely cartoony heart-eyes for. “Pleased to finally meet you. Bokuto never shuts up about you.”

Akaashi surpassed a chuckle. “He is very talkative, isn't he?”

“Goes through an alphabet of subjects in one sitting.”

“Well, I’m also glad to meet you, Iwaizumi-san,” Akaashi went on. Seeing Iwaizumi’s befuddlement, he clarified, “Oikawa-san talked about you quite a lot. I would say this is the closest he’s been to being downright smitten with a man.”

“Iwaizumi tamed the beast,” Kuroo chuckled.

“Wrestled the crocodile and won,” Bokuto added with a big smile.

“In any case,” Akaashi continued. “I just want assure you that if you’re worried about Oikawa-san, you shouldn’t be. Don’t bother looking for him because you won’t find him. As you probably know by now, he’s more than capable of taking care of himself.” Iwaizumi’s eyes must’ve flashed the question Why? because Akaashi went on to try and explain, “It’s just—Well, he does this every once in a while. It gets to be too much so he has to go back to remember.”

“I knew he wasn't fine,” Iwaizumi breathed. He stood and he could see Akaashi recognize that his assurances hadn’t done anything to calm the other. His pulse spiked with excitement at the notion that he had been right in reading Oikawa. “Kuroo said he didn't like guns at the meeting, but he was willing to carry two? When he dropped them after it was over, he stared at them like they were fucking cancerous tumors. He was scared of them, wasn’t he? Why would he take two guns if he’s scared of them?”

“Oikawa-san always planned to kill Sin,” Akaashi answered, voice surprisingly strong and raised when he realized that Iwaizumi wasn’t going to back down. “Ever since Sin gunned down a strip club to represent Lust, killing our friends, Oikawa-san swore that he was going to kill the son of a bitch, and you guys presented him the perfect opportunity. You lot from Nekoma were just a couple of stepping stones to achieving a goal Oikawa-san was adamant on reaching long before you reached out to him.”

“He used us?” Kuroo asked. He laughed, “That sly bastard! I should've known!”

“Oikawa-san will be back soon. I suggest you calm yourself in the time given to you to see whether or not you really want to hold onto him,” Akaashi finished. “He didn't plan on getting attached to you, Iwaizumi-san, but he is now, given the way he went on and on about you just a couple days ago.” Iwaizumi was about ask him how he had talked to Oikawa, but Akaashi turned on his heels and walked away. “Come on, Bokuto-san, I have some steam to blow off, if you don’t mind.”

Bokuto whooped energetically and sped right after him shouting at the top of his lungs. “Hell yeah! Round 2!”

Iwaizumi huffed and flopped back down in his chair. His head was starting to hurt. Oikawa had even covered his tracks enough to have Akaashi ready to tell Iwaizumi not to look for him. There was a hell of a lot more to Oikawa than anything Iwaizumi might’ve suspected in the beginning. “Well, now I just have more questions. I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me anything?” he asked Kuroo.

“It’s not my place to say anything,” his boss answered with a shrug, sitting down behind his desk again.

“But you do know?”

Kuroo nodded, picking up and twirling his fancy ass fountain pen around his fingers. “Of course I do. Kenma told me when we started dating, and Akaashi told Bokuto when they started dating. All three of them were in it together. So, when Oikawa gets back, I’m sure he’ll tell you, but until then, just work and wait. He’ll be back before you know it, bro.”

“Don’t call me that, please.”

“We’re not at that stage in our _brolationship_ yet?” Kuroo asked, as he placed a hand over his heart with mock pain. “You cut me deep, Iwaizumi. You wound my trust in our friendship.”

“How are you my boss?” Iwaizumi grumbled. He grabbed his glass from earlier and began to gulp down the rest of the whiskey, hoping that the burn would chase Akaashi’s words from his mind. He wanted to find Oikawa, needed to know that he was all right.

“The power of money, my friend. You needed it, and I supplied it.”

Iwaizumi stood and glared at his friend. Being friends from their high school years was nothing compared to how they were now. In high school, back when Iwaizumi hadn't know about Kuroo’s family ties, they were just buddies that happened to like the same sport and amicably piss each other off. Now, they had walked through storms of bullets and waded through small seas of blood together. He was much more comfortable with this partnership with Kuroo, it was easier to be himself. They knew each other’s dark sides, there was nothing to hide. However, there really is such a thing as too much time with Kuroo, and that’s usually when the bro jokes he made in high school propped up again. (Bokuto loved them, but they only made Iwaizumi roll his eyes.)

So, Iwaizumi straightened his coat and proceeding to walk out of the office, saying, “I’m gonna to go take a nap in my room. Call me if you need me to go out on a collection or something.”

“Isn’t your room next to Bokuto’s?”

Iwaizumi paused and grimaced, not really in the mood to hear Bokuto having sex through the walls. Taking a nap in his room was officially out of the question, because, as he was in everything, Bokuto was loud during sex. “Never mind, I’m going somewhere else.”

* * * * * *

_“Akaashi, I’m—”_

_“Oikawa-san, shut up—”_

_Another violent cough, a thick spray of blood coating them both. The gunshots and yells of a language neither could translate were getting closer and closer, and that Sugawara character was yet to appear with Kenma in their designated getaway car._

_“Akaashi, just go. Get Kenma and—”_

_“Oikawa Tooru! Please shut the fuck up!” There was a resounding slap in the concrete garage. “I will not let you die here. Okay? I refuse to. No no no no—Look at me, stay with me! Breathe. There you go. In and out, in and out. I got your head elevated. You’re going to be fine. We are going to get out of here, you, me, and Kozume-san.”_

_“Akaashi, I’m bleeding out like a fucking fountain right now!”_

_“And you’re going to keep moving and fighting despite that. Your family needs you, Oikawa-san. You can’t die on them, you can’t die on us! We’re going to get out of here, meet with Sugawara-san, and get ourselves back into Japan.”_

_A choked sob echoed in the empty space._

_“We’re finally going home, Oikawa-san—Oikawa-san? Oikawa! Goddamnit, open your eyes! Oikawa!”_

* * * * * *

Iwaizumi considered himself to be a rather hard man, able to whip out his gun and fire on command, no matter the victim or the severity of their crimes against Nekoma. He and Bokuto were muscle, what Kuroo used to throw around and frighten those that opposed him, police or just pathetic street gangs that thought they were so tough. Iwaizumi and Bokuto didn't really mind getting thrown into fights at Kuroo’s command. It meant they got a pretty good work out, depending on what they were dealing with, and that it might result in more word of their brutality and power being spread throughout Tokyo. When sent into the fray, the teenagers would usually lay down whatever excuse they carried for a blunt weapon down and let themselves be lectured by Iwaizumi while Bokuto laughed at their stupid outfits, but the adults . . . Well, the adults were a pain in the ass.

Iwaizumi found that teenagers gave up and went back home or to school once they saw that this side of Tokyo was too ugly for them. Of course, there were a few collections of teenagers that worked with smugglers, but those kids had grown up in the world or had been thrown in and had scratched and clawed to be respected by the yakuza. However, adults who decided to join a gang or leave one on a whim where just plain stupid, and probably after what would only benefit them and not increase respectability in their names. It was offending to watch, honestly.

Nearing the end of the second month of Oikawa’s disappearance, Kuroo sent Bokuto and Iwaizumi to deal with a couple that had been causing trouble in their territory, robbing shops under Nekoma’s influence and spread rumors about how Nekoma had cheated them out of a large sum of cash. They even went so far as to disrupt a meeting between a group of smugglers and Yaku and Lev. The newer recruit had received three gunshots to his upper chest while defending Yaku. Needless to say, Kuroo had been understandably outraged by the actions and immediately set Iwaizumi and Bokuto onto tracking down the couple to end whatever little game they thought they were playing.

_“Beat them, cut them, kill them, I don’t fucking care. Make them pay in blood for hurting our own. They want to try and mess with us, then show them what it means to start a fight against a yakuza clan. Show them what real bloodshed looks like.”_

Usually, Iwaizumi didn’t particularly enjoy Bokuto’s reckless driving, while Kuroo found it exhilarating and much like a rollercoaster at a theme park, he found it unsettling and upsetting to his stomach, but it was necessary for keeping up with the car just in front of them, weaving through traffic like a snake all while blasting out sucky western pop.

Iwaizumi was loading up their guns, swaying from side to side as Bokuto steered sharply, and steeling himself for whatever this crazy couple might have in store for them once they were cornered, but it didn’t matter. Yes, they were annoying lovebirds taking a joyride and messing with the yakuza, stealing drugs and money, but a line had definitely been crossed. The couple, at the sight of Iwaizumi and Bokuto, had reached out and snatched up a little girl from the streets, and used her as a human shield to keep Bokuto and Iwaizumi from firing a single bullet their way.

Still it was a good day for a little push and shove from Nekoma. The skies overhead were cloudy and rumbling faintly with thunder, rain threatening to fall at any moment. If anyone heard a gunshot, they might pass it off as a harsh clap of thunder. If they were stupid or wanted deniability, that is.

Bokuto yelled out in frustration as he took another sharp right turn to avoid colliding with a motorcycle. The wheels screeched as they skid, no doubt leaving marks on the otherwise fresh pavement. They sped down an alley, his foot increasing the pressure on the gas pedal. The golden eyes were glaring daggers at the Maserati just in front of them, as if that somehow might set the vehicle on fire. “A kid, Iwaizumi,” he growled. “A little girl, probably just got into kindergarten.”

“I know, Bokuto,” Iwaizumi replied in the same tone, giving the slides on the H&K USP and the SIG 220 harsh pulls to cock them. Being used to holding guns, they didn't feel heavy in his hand, but more like something that could cement the circumstances into his mind and prepare him for what might be coming. He was definitely going this kill these two, and if he didn't have a steady hand then he was going to miss. Iwaizumi loathed missing his targets when they deserved a bullet or two. “We’ll make them pay.”

“Kuroo would never tell us to do that, Iwaizumi! We’re bad guys, I know, _but we’re not bad guys_ , right? We would never use a kid like that! She’s probably shaking, she's so scared!”

“Bossman gave us the option to kill. So, I won’t lie and say that I’m not leaning towards that notion,” Iwaizumi reminded him nonchalantly. He braced himself against the passenger side door to keep from getting tossed around in his seat as there was another abrupt turn. He started loading more magazines in case they would need to reload a couple times before the lovebirds finally went down. He didn’t expect to need them, but there was no harm in being prepared. “I say we kill them then call in the girls to clean up and dispose of the bodies while we drop the kid off somewhere.”

“Like where? A police station?” Bokuto asked. “Great idea, Iwaizumi, that new detective and his shrimpy partner would love to see our faces!”

Iwaizumi snorted out a laugh. “The police won’t give us any shit, Bokuto, so don't get jumpy. Two nosy transfers into our area won’t change a single thing about the spineless excuses for cops in that department. We’re holding too much over their heads as it is for them to even think about acting against us. Cause if they ever do try anything, their station will get royally fucked up.”

Bokuto laughed, turning up his own music, loud, classic rock that even Iwaizumi could get into. “All right, then, Iwaizumi. Let’s do this. I’ve always wanted to fuck up a honeymoon!”

The car lurched forward with even more speed and started gaining ground on the couple. Iwaizumi could see the little girl through the back window, banging on the glass before she was roughly grabbed her curly hair and yanked down by the woman, waving the gun in warning. Bokuto didn't stop though, gritting his teeth and seething as he decided the best course of action to be to crash right into the car rather than force them into a dead end, running them right into a nearby telephone pole.

Iwaizumi tossed him the Mossberg 500 JIC, Bokuto’s favorite pump action shotgun, and the H&K, without missing a beat as he armed himself with the SIG 220 and his 9mm.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, you assholes?!” the woman screeched, kicking out one of the door’s and falling from the car. She nearly tripped on some of the stray garbage bags that littered the alleyway. She pulled out her gun and aimed it in their direction, her grip trembling like she was frightened, but Iwaizumi was inclined to think that the bitch was just fucking insane or so high she couldn’t see straight. Her eyes were bloodshot and the tips and nails of her fingers were stained with what was probably the aftermath of too many stimulants, probably some of the meth from the stash they'd raided. “Do you know how much this thing costs?” she shrieked.

“Yeah, I do! I paid for it! It’s my car!” Bokuto yelled, stepping out and lifting the shotgun to the air as a warning. The woman stepped back, quivering with anger, and Iwaizumi could see a small trickle of blood trailing from her nose. Definitely high on meth. “You fuckers with your Bonnie and Clyde routine stole it from me!”

The man emerged from the car, dragging the little girl out by the hair and shoving his handgun into her ear. She cried out, tripping over herself only to get yanked back up. “Back the fuck up before I shoot the girl!” he shouted, his red eyes darting back and forth between Iwaizumi and Bokuto, like they were monsters from the closet. “Tell the rest of Nekoma to fuck off!”

Iwaizumi fired a warning shot at the man’s feet, making him dance back, and the little girl screamed as he yanked her hair along with him. She was just a kid, dressed in a kindergarten uniform with frilly bows tied into her curls.

“Nekoma will kindly not fuck off,” Iwaizumi answered curtly, his temper growing shorter with ever whimper the girl emitted because of the pain. “Where did you stash the payments and dope you stole off us?”

The woman screeched again and held the gun to her temple, acting like she might actually shoot herself, but the tremble in her voice gave away her fear. She wouldn’t pull the trigger. “You want us alive, right? You need us alive to tell you where it is, right? Why should we tell you? You’ll just kill us both in the end—“

“We only need one of you to tell us anything, sweetheart,” Bokuto interrupted.

The deafening cracks of gunfire violently resonated through the air and the woman fell to the ground, crimson liquid seeping from a gaping hole in her chest and some dribbling from the smaller hole between her bloodshot eyes. Bokuto pumped the shotgun again, preparing another shot as he aimed, this time at the woman’s other half.

The man howled out something unintelligible, like an animal, and threw the girl away, racing to his girl. When he picked up her lifeless body, the blood was quick to seep into his clothes, dying them a ruby red. “Baby? Baby? Hey, come on, Doll. You’re fine right? You can—We can—” He cut himself off as an ugly, raw sob worked its way out from the back of his throat and tearing out into a scream. He looked up at them while cradling her flaccid body, like a baby. “How could you? _SHE’S MY WIFE!_ ”

“You mean “she was your wife,” past tense,” Iwaizumi responded brusquely. “She’s dead now, and you’re going to be dead real soon too if you don't tell us where you stashed the payments and the drugs.” The man was going to be dead either way, but he might be more willing to talk if he thought there was a chance he could make it out alive. So Iwaizumi wasn’t telling him the whole truth, who cares? The guy was going to be crumpled on the pavement soon enough anyway.

The man stood, yelled, and raised his gun, but Iwaizumi, with a flick of his wrist, shot the idiot’s fingers. The guy screamed and fell back to his knees, clutching his hand as blood dripped down his fingers and darkening his jeans and pavement below him. The gun fell with a frightening clatter. “We—We—”

Iwaizumi felt small hands latch onto the leg of his pants and immediately knew that the little girl was holding onto him. She was shaking like a leaf in a storm, just as Bokuto’d thought she would be. His heart beat for her and he offered her his hand so he could guide her back to the car. Iwaizumi opened the car door for her and let her scramble into the backseat, hiding in floor. “Keep your head down,” he advised, still keeping his eyes on Bokuto and the man. “We gonna get you someplace safe soon, okay?”

“We—I—She—The st-st-st—” The man was still babbling like an idiot, trying to bide his time and think up a lie.

“Unless you want me to blow your fucking head off right now, I suggest you hurry up and perfect your enunciation,” Bokuto threatened, stepping close and letting the barrel of the shotgun tap a leisurely rhythm against the guy’s skull. “Any time you’re ready to tell us what we want, feel free to speak up. Anything else, and either Iwaizumi will shoot you or I will, depending on who pulls the trigger fastest.”

The man let out a quibbling sob, drool mixed with blood falling from his mouth as he looked at Iwaizumi, avoiding Bokuto’s intimidating, golden eyes. “W-We tried to make a deal with Joh-Johzenji, but they wouldn't work with us because we used to work with Ougiminami! So, we stashed the money and goods near a su-suit store on your turf.”

“Aoba Jōsai Suits?” Iwaizumi asked, for clarification.

The man’s red tinted eyes lit up as he saw an opportunity to seize to possibly guarantee his freedom. “Yeah, yeah! I think, anyway. I-I don't exactly remember. If you take me with you, then I can show you exactly where we stashed it!” How delusional.

“That won’t be necessary.”

Iwaizumi pulled the trigger one last time and the bullet lodged itself in the man’s forehead after another loud clap of a gunshot. The man fell over, a stupefied expression on his face, covering his wife’s body like a shield. Bokuto twirled the shotgun in his hand like a baton and skipped back to the car as Iwaizumi shook the little girl gently to let her know that it was all right get up.

“That was easier than I was hoping it’d be,” Bokuto admitted, climbing back into the driver’s seat, “but, at least, it’s over.”

Iwaizumi sent him an exasperated scowl. These situations were never as dramatic and romanticized as the media made them out to be. More often than not, one party held all the power in the confrontation and it was all over before any cool last words could be spoken or triumphant last stands could take place. There was no dying in a blaze of glory, there was whimpering, begging for forgiveness, interrogation, and taunting but never the heroic stance you see in movies.

“Hey.” Iwaizumi nudged the little girl gently. “What’s your name, kiddo?”

“Amano Hotaru,” she replied in a hushed whisper. Her knuckles were white as she fisted the hem of her skirt in her hands. Her dark eyes were glassy with tears as they fell, leaving streaks down her red cheeks. “I want to go home!”

“Well, Amano,” Iwaizumi said, as calmly and kindly as possible. It wasn't that he was coming down from the high of pulling the trigger, but that he was always nervous around kids. Not teenagers, kids. He always had a soft spot for kids, and could never stand it when they were scared of him. “We’re going to take you to the police so you can go home to your mom and dad, okay?”

“You’re not the police?”

“No,” he confessed, “but we’re not going to hurt you. I promise.”

Amano eyed him warily, like she was trying to assess whether or not he was going to hurt her too, and ended up shying away from him in the end. She crawled across the backseat and sat in the seat farthest from him, wrapping her dirtied light blue sweater tighter around herself before curling into a ball. “I want to go home,” she repeated.

Iwaizumi said nothing else and joined Bokuto in the front seats, the two of them exchanging the same look. They both were so good with kids when they knew nothing about what either of them did, but once they saw, Iwaizumi and Bokuto had no idea how to interact with them, how to explain it. _Yeah, we’re bad guys, can be really bad guys, like the villains in a police drama on TV. Don’t worry, though, kids, we’re not that bad. We just shoot guys who cross us or cops in our way, deal drugs and illegal products and paintings from overseas._ As cool as some kids might find it, the kids who liked to watch anime about the mafia in America, it’s not exactly something to encourage the fascination of, per se. Let them grow up knowing who the bad guys and good guys were, so they could end up better than Iwaizumi or Bokuto.

Bokuto bid his previously stolen, and now wrecked car, a fond farewell as he continued to drive Iwaizumi’s car towards the police station. It wasn't that long of a drive, only about ten minutes. The little girl was quiet in the backseat. She kept her head down and, every once in a while sniffled miserably, kicking her legs to a shaky tempo, as her feet didn't even come close to touching the floorboards. As they drove, Iwaizumi made a call for Kuroo to send Kindaichi and Kunimi to Aoba Jōsai Suits, and to send Shirofuku Yukie and Suzumeda Kaori to clean up the two bodies and blood they left in the alley. Their boss thanked them for their work, then had to take another call.

Pulling into the parking lot for the Tokyo Police Department, Iwaizumi took another deep breath, opening his door and then Amano’s, leading her out of the city and into the “safety” of the department building. The rain had started to come down halfway through the drive there, a light drizzle dotting the windows and windshield of the car.

The inside was a stillness that would a chill up anyone’s back, dozens of eyes locked onto the three figures like they be rabid dogs that attack at any time, but Iwaizumi had grown accustomed to it in all the times he'd had to visit the Tokyo Police Department to issue a few statements in Kuroo’s name. At the front desk was exactly who Iwaizumi had hoped he might bump into: Kageyama Tobio and his partner Hinata Shouyou. It never hurt to push around the transfers who were still wide eyed and hopeful to let them know who really ran Tokyo.

“Detective Kageyama, Detective Hinata,” Iwaizumi greeted casually, standing just behind them. The two transfers whirled on them with wild eyes, like they were ready for a fight, but Iwaizumi just chuckled at them. The newbies were always so funny. “How are you enjoying Tokyo so far?”

“What do you want, yakuza?” Kageyama asked, straightening out his professional suit to show off the leather gun holsters just under his arms. He would be intimidating to anyone else that wasn't a part of Nekoma. He was tall, lean muscle, with an intimidating aura that demanded respect, but only lead to Bokuto teasing him. Some fringe form his cropped black hair often fell in the way of his dark, dark blue eyes that always seemed to be fixed in a perpetual scowl. (Kuroo often teased, saying the detective looked like someone who hadn't left the emo stage of his teen years. Iwaizumi countered, saying that Kuroo wasn't exactly one to judge.)

“Did you do something to this little girl? Kidnap her?” Kageyama pressed.

Amano stepped forward, latching onto the dark grey coat of Detective Hinata’s suit. Iwaizumi wasn’t surprised that she went to him rather than Kageyama. Hinata was just someone who radiated friendliness. He was shorter than most of the officers and other workers in the department, and other members of Nekoma loved to tease him for it, seeing how it always riled him up. He had messy, wild ginger hair, and bright brown eyes that made him seem much more approachable than his partner.

“We’re just here to drop off the kid,” Bokuto explained easily, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Neither of him or Iwaizumi were armed, which might've been a bad thing, but luckily the new detectives were still too high strung to try anything that would warrant the drawing of a piece. “We saved her from two fucked up junkies on a joyride.”

“Watch your language around the kid!” Hinata exclaimed, covering Amano’s ears.

“You’re lying! You have to be!” Kageyama accused, pointing at them. One of the two receptionists, a girl with short blonde hair and flickering, nervous brown eyes, came and escorted the Amano away from the confrontation.

“Technically, we’re not lying,” Iwaizumi replied, with an idle shrug of his shoulders. “We did save her from two fucked up junkies, a couple of lovebirds high on crystal, molly, and gods know what else. We just want you to get the girl home.”

“But you’re not telling us the whole truth!” Kageyama insisted, agreeing with his partner. He pulled out a notepad. “It would be smart of you to tell us everything you can about these people so we can arrest them for kidnapping.”

“Also, they stole my car,” Bokuto added.

“Which you probably paid for using money from extorting businesses, right?” Hinata asked.

“Whoa, I’m not talking about that, I’m not under oath,” Bokuto laughed, holding his hands up in surrender. “Relax, Chibi-chan, everything is all cool now. Just take the fact that we showed up to drop off the girl as a sign of good faith. We don’t have to be this nice to you newbies. So let me make this clear in case my partner Iwaizumi here hasn't made it crystal already, you stay out of our business, and we’ll leave the protecting of Tokyo’s morality and ethics to you do gooders.”

Iwaizumi nodded as his phone starting ringing, a high pitched drone. Recognizing the ringtone as Kuroo’s casual number, Iwaizumi let the phone continue to ring until he’d said, “Have a good day, officers!” Then he walked out, answering the phone as Bokuto trailing just behind him, leaning forward to try and listen in on the conversation.

It was a simple sentence from Kuroo. “Meet me at Diamonds&Sapphires right now.”

**_CLICK!_ **

* * * * * *

Seeing Diamonds&Sapphires in the middle of the day just felt odd, like seeing a species not native to Japan wandering the streets of Tokyo. There wasn't a swarm of cars parked outside, no one was trying to push past the bouncers to catch even a fleeting glimpse of the dancers. There were no strobe lights sweeping the room. In fact, the whole area was lit up like any other establishment on the block. The tables were empty, with chairs stacked on top, and there wasn't a beat of music to be heard. Instead, there was the expected company of Sugawara, Sawamura, Kuroo, Akaashi, and a smaller man with dark roots and blond strands that Iwaizumi didn't recognize. For all intents and purposes, he assumed this was the famous Kozume Kenma that Kuroo never shut up about in his spare time.

However strange the changes to the strip club might've seemed, nothing could've prepared Iwaizumi for the sight of the illustrious Oikawa Tooru on the screen of the laptop they were all huddled around.

Bokuto immediately bounced over without so much as a thought, wrapping his arms around Akaashi, who leaned into the touch with a smile, leaving Iwaizumi to freeze in place just a few feet away. His mind went blank, only able to stare stupidly at the face on the screen. The whole group was gushing over Oikawa, asking how he was doing ( _“Of course, I’m fine. I’m me, Kou-chan, what did you expect?”_ ), how he his family was doing ( _“They were positively dying without my wonderful presence to brighten their days!”_ ), and when he was coming back ( _“By the end of this week actually!”_ ). Though he was answering all the questions with his upbeat charisma, anyone could see that Oikawa very much looking for someone in their midst, eyes hurrying across the faces. Sugawara immediately caught on, beckoning Iwaizumi forward hurriedly.

Not knowing what else to do, Iwaizumi stepped towards them, a string of worries flooding his mind. His palms were sweaty; he was so nervous. He couldn't help it. This was Oikawa Tooru, the Sapphire, the one who had plagued his mind for two months, disappeared without a trace, without a goodbye, and was without a doubt the only person Iwaizumi had ever been stuck on. Oikawa was right in front of him, he could see him through this very screen, and yet he was almost paralyzed with the fear of what the Sapphire could say to him. He had spent so much time thinking about what he would say to Oikawa, to demand answers, and just beg a confirmation out of him about whether or not they were anything they wanted to hold onto.

But here was Oikawa now, intangible but here, and Iwaizumi didn’t have a fucking clue as to what he wanted to say, how to even start.

Oikawa stared up at him. A wide smile stretched across his face, revealing those perfect, white teeth. And gods, he was wearing a cute pair of glasses with black rims. Could he get anymore unbearably beautiful? “Iwa-chan!” he exclaimed, leaning in closer. His hair was just as perfect styled and shiny, and his eyes were bursting with light at the sight of Iwaizumi. “You look constipated, are you all right?”

Kuroo and Bokuto both snorted out a laugh as Iwaizumi initially gaped at the screen, his brows then furrowing into a halfhearted glare. “Lover boy here hasn’t thought about anything but you for days, how do you think he feels?” Kuroo asked, taking the opportunity to make a jab at the two of them. “He misses you!”

Iwaizumi was quick to try and shut them to forgo anymore embarrassment, but Oikawa simply let out one of his sun bright peals of laughter and Iwaizumi swore he forgot how to breathe. God, was he really this hung up on a guy he didn’t even know that well? Watching the corners of Oikawa’s eyes crinkle cutely as he continued to laugh, and Iwaizumi knew the answer.

“Well, Iwa-chan, I really am sorry I kept you waiting!” Oikawa finally said, after recovering from his bout of laughter. The smile reminded Iwaizumi why he had waited. It wasn’t the stage smile, but the one he reserved for those he cared about, and Iwaizumi was starting to figure out how lucky he was to be one of those few.

“‘Iwa-chan’?” a voice off screen asked loudly, as there was the sound of a door slamming open as the screen shook from the vibrations. “Isn’t that what you told us you call your boyfriend?”

_Stop the fucking presses. Boyfriend?_

“Takeru!” Oikawa snapped, his voice cracking like a prepubescent boy as he flushed with chagrin just before turning to try and shoo away whoever was attempting to rush into the room. “No! Takeru! Go to your room! You’re supposed to be resting!”

_Someone said ‘boyfriend’?_

“Ohoho?” Bokuto grinned, catching onto the word.

“Ohohoho?” Kuroo grinned similarly, lopsided and knowing. “Boyfriend, huh, Iwaizumi?”

“Aww,” Sugawara cooed. He turned to Akaashi and Kenma, smiling fondly. He hopped to sit up on one of the tables, and giggled coyly at them. “All my kids are now taken by terrible, violent men. Didn’t I raise you boys better than this?”

“No,” Akaashi answered without hesitation, ruffling Bokuto’s hair.

“I have failed as parent!” Sugawara bemoaned, burying his head into Sawamura’s neck.

“Koushi, you were the one that set me up with Kuro in the first place,” Kenma added, still looking down at his phone, having not looked up once during the exchanges. He was resting his head against Kuroo’s chest, who was absentmindedly twirling the blonde strands through his fingers, occasionally weaving short braids and then unraveling them with a fond smile.

It seemed so domestic, watching Bokuto and Kuroo wrapped around ones they loved, but Iwaizumi couldn’t help but feel like it suited them.

A boy managed to evade Oikawa and pressed in close to the camera, like he was looking at a new toy. He couldn’t have been more than ten years old, Iwaizumi observed, as this Takeru enthusiastically waved to them all. Everyone waved back with familiarity, all smiling warmly. Takeru was small, probably having to stand on his tiptoes to reach where he could be face-to-face with the camera. His face was very round, had two dark brown eyes, and a buzzcut. “Your boyfriend looks like a porcupine!” he exclaimed excitedly, tapping the screen and laughing.

Iwaizumi’s boss and partner burst out in howls of laughter, clinging to their own boyfriends to keep from falling. Kuroo let out one of his obnoxious, gut busting laughs. Meanwhile, Iwaizumi was still frozen with realization.

_Oikawa’s been calling me, Iwaizumi Hajime, his boyfriend while he’s been away?_

“Takeru! Go back to your room!” Oikawa squawked, trying to pull the boy away as gingerly as he could, giving Takeru a glare that was promptly ignored, favoring the idea of asking how everyone was doing and what being a stripper was like, eliciting a stream of giggles from Sugawara. “Sis! Your child is messing with my stuff again and interrupting a very important meeting!”

_Holy hell. Boyfriend._

“Oh, relax, _dearest brother_ , it’s not like he’ll break anything—Is that your boyfriend?” A woman, probably about five years or so older than them all, pushed aside Takeru to take a peek, and Iwaizumi felt as if he were a zoo animal the way she was scrutinizing him. “Little brother, I didn’t know you were capable of getting good looking guys to like you. Where’d you go to pick up this handsome devil?”

“Minako!” Oikawa groaned, appearing on the screen again. He was fixing his hair, after his sister had ruffled it into a crow’s nest as she shouted how proud she was of him. “Minako, you guys are ruining this for me! I was going to be cool! I had this whole thing planned where I—”

“What’s this I hear about my son’s boyfriend?” a benevolent voice called out, knocking softly before entering the room.

“Mom!” both the Oikawa siblings exclaimed.

Oikawa groaned and let his head fall onto the desk the laptop was probably placed on with a loud **_THUD!_** , and his sister squealed elatedly, dragging over an older woman with hair just like the two siblings. Iwaizumi could see where Oikawa had gotten his looks, the gentle features and toffee brown hair and eyes. She smiled warmly at Iwaizumi and waved in greeting.

“So, you’re the good man my son won’t stop talking about,” she chuckled. “He’s been trying to muster the courage to text his Iwa-chan for these two months now, but won’t stop flailing about how you must hate him. You don’t hate my son, do you? He’s a good boy and is very attached to you. Who am I kidding, you must already know this. I wouldn’t hesitate to say that he loves you.”

The whole room around Iwaizumi went silent, as Oikawa screamed for everyone on his side of the screen to leave Iwa-chan alone before they scared him off. Simultaneously, Sugawara walked forward and placed a hand on Iwaizumi’s shoulder, giving him reassuring squeeze. “I knew I could trust you,” he whispered, approvingly.

Iwaizumi nodded numbly, finally trying to form a good sentence in his head. Oikawa gave him a smile and shrug. Seeing the family interact had brought a small smile to his face, and now they were all staring at him expectantly. He found that any harbored, ill emotions faded away as soon as he’d seen Oikawa interacting with his family. “Um, yes, ma’am,” he managed to get out. “I mean, no! I don’t hate your son, ma’am! He’s . . . certainly something else.”

The woman smiled broadly and clapped her hands together enthusiastically. “You’ll have to come with our Tooru next time he visits so we can meet you in person. You’ll have to tell us your favorite food, how you met, when you’re going get married and adopt so I can get another grandchild, what kind of pet you’ll get—”

“Mom! Oh my god! Too soon, too fast!” Oikawa screeched, forcefully ushering his family out of the room before returning to the computer to find everyone lost in hysterics. He was flushed, cheeks puffed with a pout as he waited for everyone to finish laughing. When it seemed that Kuroo and Bokuto weren’t going to stop howling anytime soon, he said, “Iwa-chan, I’m sorry I was gone. I am, but I had to. So, let me make it up to you. Do you want to get dinner Friday night? I'm buying!” No ulterior motive could be found in his words, only sincerity, so Iwaizumi had no choice but to accept with a grin.

* * * * * *

“I was wondering why you didn’t kill me as soon as I walked in the door.”

“Oikawa, made me promise not to lay a finger on you. Believe me, when I saw the scratches on his face, I nearly marched after you, but he said that he didn’t want you to get hurt for something he got himself into. I couldn’t say no, so I’ll let go of it this time, but you better take care of your man from now on, Iwaizumi Hajime.”

* * * * * *

Their dinner plans hadn’t been anything special or fancy, for fear of putting too much pressure on the meet up, so they had agreed to meet at a quaint burger joint between Oikawa’s apartment and the Nekoma manor.

However, the minute Oikawa Tooru walked through the door of his apartment, there was Iwaizumi Hajime, dressed in jeans, a shirt with the vintage poster of the movie Godzilla imprinted across the front, and a baggy, grey hoodie. His hair was in those soft spikes Oikawa had grown to find endearing, adding to his rough exterior, and his forest green eyes were locked onto Oikawa, wide and so easy to read. Oikawa loved Iwaizumi’s eyes, how they were void of deception and so honest it made his heart skip a beat whenever he met them.

_I missed you. Come here. I want to touch you to know you’re really here._

Oikawa let out a stream of giggles when Iwaizumi knocked the suitcases from his hands and drawing them together in a hot, desperate kiss. All anxiety he’d been holding to faded away at the softness of the lips pressed against his. Oikawa melted into the sturdy, muscled arms and lost himself in the kiss, wrapping his own arms around Iwaizumi’s neck as he was pushed backwards to close the door. Their mouths slid together perfectly, and parted for Iwaizumi to lick into Oikawa’s mouth, grazing their tongues together and caressing the roof of his mouth. Separating, Oikawa let his head fall back as the other kissed his way down the Sapphire’s neck, working up towards his cheeks and eyes, causing of electricity to burst under his skin at the contact.

Oikawa had been touched before, had been kissed before, had been fucked before, but it hadn’t felt the way Iwaizumi did. With others, it had felt forced and far too real to be enjoyable, but Iwaizumi felt like a garden in a fire, secure and almost too good to be true. Oikawa didn’t think he deserved this man, but he was going to hold onto Iwaizumi for as long as he could.

“I missed you,” Iwaizumi mumbled, returning to Oikawa’s lips like he was trying to claim them with everything he had. His hands carded through the soft hair he’d been dying to touch for two months.

Oikawa chuckled breathily when Iwaizumi bit down on the soft spot on his neck, and happily arched into him involuntarily. “Do we really know each other well enough for you to really miss me, Iwa-chan?” He was teasing, of course. He had missed the other so much, dying every second he hadn’t been able to feel the heat of Iwaizumi’s gaze or trace the weathered sharp muscles of his back.

Iwaizumi hummed, his hands slipping under Oikawa’s shirt to graze his nipples. “I guess not, no,” he answered honestly, “but goddamnit I missed you, Oikawa.” He grinned wolfishly when he heard the breathy hitch fall from the dancer’s lips when he pinched the sensitive nubs between his fingers, fitting his hips against Oikawa’s and rolling them needfully. “Come on, baby, let me show you how much I missed you.” His voice was thick, heady with desire.

Oikawa moaned, but then smiled coyly down at him. His eyes were a galaxy of stars, and Iwaizumi’s were a safe forest he could lose himself in. “ _Please do.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! The next chapter is in progress, but that one will take time because we will hear the backstory of one Oikawa Tooru, and that has to be perfect or I will beat myself up about it. The chapter should be up by next Friday, but I will probably write and rewrite it until I feel like it's worthy of this fic. So, I hope you'll enjoy that upcoming chapter as well!
> 
> (Also, if you're confused by the sudden appearance of the psycho crazy lovebirds, it's all for a reason, I assure you. You'll just have to give the future one-shots a read to see why.)


	4. Storytelling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sometimes I wonder how I got to be this person. It’s like, you have a version in your head of who you think you are. And then, one day, you realize, maybe you aren’t that. Even though you think you’re kind and good at heart . . . Really, you’re just a sum total of a bunch of bad decisions.”  
> —The High Cost of Living

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we move onto to Oikawa's story, a dialogue centered chapter for the most part, and it does end on a good note so that's nice.
> 
> (Warning: There are mentions of dark elements, like shooting, stabbing, mentions of drugs, and there is an attempted rape scene. If you are not comfortable reading that scene, it begins with "The grips around his wrists" and ends at "he screamed again, collapsing in a heap." So please be careful when you're reading, don't read anything that makes you uncomfortable, skip it if you need to!)
> 
> I probably will add one last chapter as kind of an epilogue for this fic before I move onto the short stories, so that is in progress, as are the other short stories.
> 
> EDIT: This chapter has been altered to be less graphic.

Sunlight, oh so warm and far too glaring for the morning, streamed in through the window, finally able to rouse both Oikawa and Iwaizumi from a peaceful slumber. Sure, they were now awake, but they only shifted to try and be closer, tangling their bodies together. Iwaizumi murmured something unknowable, pressing wandering kisses along Oikawa’s back, tapping the dots of freckles like they were piano keys. He would be lying if he said he didn’t like this, waking up and feeling that someone wasn’t afraid to be this close to him, be held by him or hold him. He would liked to stay like this for many more hours, absorbing the homelike heat radiating off the Sapphire. However, Oikawa turned over, smiling dolefully, his eyes drooping on the brink of closing to fall asleep again, and said, almost inaudibly, “I want to tell you.”

“I can wait, you know, if you’re not really ready yet,” Iwaizumi replied, reaching out and touching his face with a gentle caress of his knuckles. Even though he was dying to learn every little thing about the man he just woke up net to, he could be patient. He had waited for two months, what was a couple more days or even just a few hours? However, he could deny that his heart had sped up at the fact that Oikawa was willing to trust him with this.

“I don’t want to wait.” The words were unsteady, but the resolve behind them was clearly etched onto the stripper’s softened features. “I kept you in suspense for two months, right? I think you deserve to know who you’ve been sleeping with.”

Oikawa slipped out from under the safety of the blankets, traipsing to his closet to pick out an oversized hoodie, patterned to look like the out metal workings of the Millennium Falcon from Star Wars, and pulled it over his head. A chuckle escaped Iwaizumi. So, the high and mighty Sapphire of Diamonds&Sapphires really was a SciFi nerd at heart. That was too damn cute. Oikawa absentmindedly fixed his hair with a few run throughs with his fingers, as he tugged the fabric down until it reached just below his knees, and picked up his glasses up from the bedside table. Iwaizumi took his time to admire the view while he disentangled himself from the comforter and yanked on his own faded grey hoodie. Now they sort of matched . . . That’s what couples did, right? They did cutesy shit like this, right?

Sitting up, Iwaizumi and Oikawa sat across form each other. He fiddled withe the frayed strings as he waited fro the Sapphire to spill his secrets. He could feel butterflies in his tummy, and wondered when the last time he felt this nervous was.

“It’s a long, fucked up autobiography,” Oikawa warned him, with a weak, bashful chuckle, as he scratched the back of his head. He let out a small sound of surprise when Iwaizumi leaned forward and kissed him, short and sweet, to tell him that he didn’t care how fucked up it was. No matter where Oikawa had come from, done in the past, Iwaizumi loved him now, and thats all that really mattered. They were both messes, but he was Oikawa Tooru, beautiful beyond words, and he was Iwaizumi Hajime, a pillar of strength, they were going to be just fine.

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi said, holding the Sapphire’s face as gently as he could, like it was priceless. “I have all the time in the world to listen to you. Okay?”

“You really are a nice guy, huh, Iwa-chan?” He could feel Oikawa’s fingers touching his, but he kept his eyes on the other’s face. The scratches on his cheeks were long gone, no remnants of scarring, and his cheeks were now that beautiful cream color, tinged with a blush.

Oikawa smiled sheepishly and allowed himself a sigh, closing his eyes, then began to speak. The sentences started off slow and thoughtful then turned into a desperate tumble and search for words.

“In high school, I was given every opportunity to become a star,” he whispered, raspy and trying. “In a private school like mine, I was initially insecure, afraid that I would never be able to stand a chance against every other bright eyed kid around me. I had ugly, thick glasses that I was certain would be the death of me, and I was ready to graduate and become another cog in the well oiled machine of people that completed school to only get a dead end job in some soul sucking office. But, with late study nights and a series of successful events because of my efforts in club activities, I had caught the eyes of several distinguished universities. I was ecstatic, obviously. Wouldn’t you be? I was going to succeed, I stood apart from the crowd, and I could be anything I wanted to be with the right amount dedication.”

Iwaizumi nodded, letting his lips quirk up. It sounded right. Oikawa seemed like the kind of person born for success and fame. A movie star or a model on the cover of every fashion magazine. He was a shining star. High school Oikawa was probably bright and bubbly, dreams and stars in his eyes.

The Sapphire took a shuddering breath, turning to look out he window, the view of the street right outside blocked but the light color curtains. The sunlight carved out his features into something not so soft and vulnerable, but into something sharp and beaten.

He continued, “I was ready to throw myself out into the world. I was going to act, sing, dance, maybe learn how to paint, and film a movie or two, anything. I made new friends, Akaashi and Kenma who you’d think wouldn’t click with me, but we did, and people from classes I wasn’t even in couldn’t get enough of me. Living like that, I was so ready for my life to begin, but just as all that going to come about . . .” He stopped short, inhaling shakily, attempting to stave off the tears, balling up the fabric of his hoodie in his hands. His knuckles were turning paper white as he tried to keep himself composed. “My nephew, Takeru got sick, really sick at the end of my first year in university. Cancer. Started in his brain was began growing rapidly throughout his entire body, damaging his vital organs and making it very difficult to breathe.”

Iwaizumi sucked in started breath. The little ball of energy from the video chat earlier that week?

Oikawa’s voice croaked, raw and shivering with melancholy, at the memory of a frail boy in a hospital bed, hooked up to what he had thought looked like a million machines deeming an incessant, annoying tune. He kept talking though, robotically. “You know how they say cancer is a real bitch? Well, it is. Everything came crashing down, and not just for me. He was my nephew, so of course I threw everything away to help raise money for the surgeries and the numerous treatments. My sister was wreck, my mother kept looking at funeral homes, and I had to be strong fro them.”

Iwaizumi saw a stray tear fall down Oikawa’s cheek, and he intertwined their fingers as Oikawa quickly swept away the single drop. The other was suddenly cold, fingers like ice. The Sapphire moved closer, until their knees were brushing against one another. He didn’t want space. He wanted Iwaizumi here like he might stay forever. Oikawa needed to tell him, needed him to know who he was. Because, though a little voice was trying to convince him otherwise, he suspected that Iwaizumi would be the one to accept him.

“We needed money more than I needed an education,” he said. He remembered the meeting with the dean, who was trying to convince him to stay and then conveyed how disappointed they would be to lose a promising student like him. That’s right. Oikawa nearly had a future in the limelight, nearly was the name on everyone’s lips, but he threw it away, for a good reason. “I was smart enough, and I would read up on what confused me. I would be fine.”

* * * * * *

_“Mom, there has to be something else I can do to help.”_

_They were talking in hushed voices so as not to wake Takeru, who was buried under layers upon layers of blankets and still shivering like he was locked in a freezer. He was pale and almost bony now, a state Oikawa had hoped he would never see his nephew in. The sight made his heart clench painfully. This was his family, someone that they all had given up money, dreams, and time to sleep to provide for in the possibility that he might heal. However much they gave, though, nothing seemed to be making the condition an easier. No matter how many small, stress inducing surgeries that would fend off the worst for a couple of months, no real progress was being made._

_“You’re doing all you can. Don’t try to carry all of this weight on your shoulders, Tooru.” His mother’s hand on his shoulder often was a sign for them not to give up, but the time it felt like she was resigning to the odds. This sickness was tearing Oikawa’s family to shreds, and he would be damned if he let it continue for much longer without a fight._

_They needed money. A lot of it._

_“I know I can do more, Mom.” No matter how much he insisted, they wouldn’t accept anything more from him, claiming that was he was already doing enough, that hew as already doing all he could. That was a lie. Oikawa could always do more, especially now more than ever, since it meant his nephew’s life. He was strong enough, persistent enough. “I can take another job, work more hours at the bakery until I can ask fro a raise—”_

_“And when will you sleep, Tooru?” His mother’s eyes were glassy as she stared at him, completely broken down and distraught._

_“When Takeru can climbs trees, play volleyball like I did, go outside and run around like another other kid his age! I can and will sleep when my nephew isn’t stuck in a hospital bed on the brink of death, mom!” Don’t be worried about me. For god’s sake, mom, worry about Takeru._

_“Takeru wouldn’t want you working yourself into an early grave for him. You need to go rest, Tooru, please. Go home and rest your eyes, sweetie. You’ll see when you wake up that what you’re doing now is more than enough and more than we could ever bring ourselves to ask of you.”_

_If there was something Oikawa Tooru did not take well was the air of someone who had given up. He couldn’t understand how his mother and sister were just accepting that Takeru was going to pass on. No one should have to bury a child, and Oikawa was going to make damn certain that he wouldn’t have to bear the sight of his nephew in a coffin anytime in the near future._

* * * * * *

“I had two well-paying jobs and worked myself ragged over summer vacation,” Oikawa went on.

Breathing was becoming easier as he talked, looking directly at Iwaizumi, who returned the gaze with such genuine care that it hurt. He didn’t make him feel pitiful, but like someone cared about him and wasn’t trust listened to another sob story from a stranger on the train. Talking to Iwaizumi was somehow even more uplifting than when he told his story to Kenma, Suga, and Akaashi. He could trust Iwaizumi to stay with him after this, assured himself, continuing to ignore the gnawing anxiety in his mind.

“At the time, I thought it was the most brutal days I could possibly endure. It was sweltering, and somedays it got so hard to breathe and see straight because what if he died and I wasn’t there to hold his fucking hand? Takeru was strongest though, stronger than all of us around him, I reckon. He smiled and accepted treatment after treatment even though it hurt, and he believed every single empty promise the doctors gave us. It was never enough, though. He was losing the fight, quickly too. The surgeries never seemed to stop, and we needed more money. Without telling my family, I gave into a little voice in the back of my head when the cancer started to appear in his eyes.”

Oikawa could feel the telltale pricks of more tears in the corners of his eyes as blurs of water clouded his vision. It was years ago, but remember how helpless Takeru had been when he heard that he might lose his eyes was too much to bear. The panic stricken expression, his whole body tensing into a plank of wood, and his breaths coming out too fast and shallow until he nearly hyperventilated.

“I couldn’t just sit back any longer and let him lose his sight. Even though it seemed like he wouldn’t, what if he did beat this and live? If we let him lose his eyes, then he wouldn’t be able to see the stars at night, a cute dog, or see boring exhibits in a museum. I had to do something more. So, as a last ditch effort to come up the necessary funds for sclerouvectomy, I went to the yakuza to see about obtaining the 4.5 million yen we needed. My family was practically broke by now, barely scraping by as he tried to scrape up enough money. So, I knew we had no other choice.”

Iwaizumi stared at him incredulously, and his grip on Oikawa’s and tightened, almost possessively. “Which family?” he asked. Depending on the clan, making a deal could be reasonable or result in a loss too costly for money. If he had gone to Nohebi, gods know what price Oikawa might’ve had to pay to get that money.

“Shiratorizawa,” Oikawa said.

Iwaizumi let out a huff of relief. Shiratorizawa was a good clan. They had strong members, were honorable in many ways (even that funny Tendou Satori had a streak of integrity running though his veins), and honestly, they were one of the few good clans in the area. If you wanted to get mixed up with yakuza, meeting up with Nekoma or Shiratorizawa were definitely the two to go to.

* * * * * *

_“That’s a lot of money to ask for, kid,” Kumicho muttered, crossing his spidery arms over his chest and leaning back in the chair._

_“I’ll do anything,” Oikawa promised, on his knees and head bowed low to show how deeply he was begging for them to provide him the aid. He was shaking. This was the fucking yakuza, and he was a nobody. Was asserting himself this desperately and so forward a good idea? Well, it was his only other option at this point._

_“Anything, only within reason, though, yes?” Ushijima Wakatoshi, the wakagashira, asked. He had a face so stoic and composed; it pissed Oikawa off an unusual amount, but if being amicable and humbling himself before this man would get him the money to save his nephew’s eyes, Oikawa would gladly stoop and throw away his ego._

_“No, when I say anything, I mean I will do anything to earn the money. I promise you that I’ll do anything you need to get the money, and anything to pay you back. My life earnings, my life, if that’s what it takes!”_

* * * * * *

“The kumicho and wakagashira of Shiratorizawa saw little to no profit by helping someone like me, and rightly pointed out that it was unlikely that I would ever be able to pay off such a large amount of money. However, I got them to agree by offering up my services to wth as they wanted. They accepted with some pushing by Ushijima Wakatoshi, and I was given a job similar to what I did with you lot from Nekoma. I was to distract a famous CEO while Shiratorizawa destroyed his property. He had gone back on a deal with Shiratorizawa, and so they were going to make an example of his family, work, and home of what happens when you fuck with Shiratorizawa.” Oikawa let out a shuddering chuckle and picked at the strings on his hoodie. “Shiratorizawa is a good clan, but they really are brutal when it comes to conquering those who oppose them. They’re like the goddamn Spartan army.”

“What happened then?” Iwaizumi asked. Concern lined his face as he looked at Oikawa. The wide, chocolate eyes seemed so withdrawn now, like a king that was stripped of his crown and power. “Oikawa, if you don’t want to keep talking about this, then you don’t have to, all right? We can take a break, get some breakfast and then continue this later.” He was grateful to Oikawa opening up to him, but he didn’t want to pressure Oikawa into thinking that everything had to come out now.

“The man was out with his friends at a bar,” Oikawa carried on, seemingly ignoring Iwaizumi’s suggestion, or maybe he was just too wrapped up in telling the story to have heard him. He was running his hands nervously through his hair, messing it up and then refining it again. This was one of the parts he was worried about. Every part of him screamed that Iwaizumi would understand and still like him, but he couldn’t help but fear the reaction of the man across from him. “He wasn’t even behaving like the head of a company, but more like a fucked up, tweaking junkie. He was high as fuck, drunk as fuck, and more than willing to take and break what he wanted if it suited him.”

* * * * * *

_The grips around his wrist and ankles were like iron, pinning him in place against the damp, brick wall. The hands roaming his torso and ass were like spider skittering across his skin, sending disgusted shivers down his spine. His mind was screaming at him to run or fight them off, and though he tried, the vice-like grips only tightened, another one snaking around his throat and constricting like a python killing its prey. The most he could manage were a few pleading gasps for mercy, a beg, but all he received in response were mocking laughter and hot, sticky, alcohol-scented breaths puffing into his ears like smoke from a cigarette. His head was growing dizzier and dizzier from the lack of oxygen, and that only made him writhe helplessly even more. He needed air, he needed to breathe—_

_The CEO attempted to shove his hands down Oikawa's pants, but_ _Oikawa screamed and thrashed violently at the contact. They all laughed at him, like this was a fun game they played, and the bruising grip on his throat grew tighter still. His vision was beginning to fade, the lights near the alleyway growing blurry. He was suddenly thrown to the ground like a rag doll, and they forced him to lay face down, pressing against the wet concrete. Still, he fought to escape them, attempting to pull away sharply or tried to bite at their hands like a piranha to make them release his mouth, but nothing worked._

Let me go!

_Oikawa finally managed to get an ankle free, and used it to kick back at the face of the CEO, who was just about to straddle him from behind. He felt his foot connect and a sickening crunch filled thick, humid air. The man stumbled back, clutching his nose and yelling out in pain. “FUCK!” When he turned back, Oikawa could see through craning his neck around that the CEO’s nose was crooked and bloodied, broken. A quick rush of pride flooded his systems and brought on an even stronger sense of urgency. This might be a chance to escape, while the man was bitching about his pain. “I’m going to make you pay, you little fuck up!”_

_Oikawa managed to get his teeth around the hand at his mouth, the one that had been mulling his voice this whole time, and bit down as hard as he could. Blood spurted into his mouth as his teeth broke the alcohol tasting skin. The man released his hold on him and Oikawa took the opportunity to scream out, “HELP! SOMEBODY HELP M—!”_

_He was cut off as a shirked of pain was ripped from his sore throat. One of the men had grabbed him by the hair and rammed his head brutally into the concrete just below him. Anymore cries for help died on his lips as they bashed his head into the concrete again and regained their terrible grips on him, his clothes being ripped off his body in jerky, drunken movements until he was completely exposed to them and the night air._

_Oikawa never stopped trying to escape. He wasn’t going to make this easy for any of these bastards. His head was spinning dangerously fast, the pain in the center his forehead throbbed like an open wound, and his ears rang. Still, he managed to get in some blows before the CEO knocked him over the head again with a brick that had been lying around. The blood dribbled from the center of his head._

_Luckily, before the men could do anymore, a soft ringing interrupted them, stilling their movements. The grips loosened, but not quite enough for Oikawa to break free_

_"It's the wife! Fuck! She knows not to call my work cell!" the CEO snapped. “Keep the slut quiet while I take this. You guys know what to say, right?” Holding the phone out, the man’s tone switched from what had previously been authoritative now morphed into a sickly sweet stream of lies. “Hi, sweetie! I’m on my way home now!”_

_“I would hope you are, because who’s going to put out the fire if you can’t?” a voice replied. Oikawa swore that never in his life had he been so happy to hear a voice that he hated and grated on his nerves like no other. Ushijima Wakatoshi continued, in his collected voice, “The fire department wont be responding to any of your calls, and the police won’t be of any help to you either, my friend. So, I would get here before your house is nothing but rubble and your family are the remains charred skeletons for decoration.”_

_“Who the fuck—”_

_“Shiratorizawa is not one to go back on deals, and anyone who has the balls to make a deal, a monetary and contract agreement, with us should abide by the same notion. You have your warning, and we have what we want. I hope this makes it clear that Shiratorizawa will do nothing for you now but ruin what little scraps of your life you have left.”_

_“That’s it, boss, keep breaking them!” another voice merrily chimed in from the phone._

_Oikawa lifted his head, taking advantage of the shock of the men surrounding him, to scream at the top of his lungs, with all his remaining energy and will he had left, “HELP ME!”_

_“I said keep him quiet!” the CEO shrieked, his voice cracking._

_Oikawa felt a hand crack against the side of his face, sending back onto the concrete, whimpering in pain._

_There was another break of silence, and Oikawa feared that they might leave him to die here. Why wouldn’t they? He had done his job and if he died then they didn’t need to give him the money. Luckily, Ushijima spoke up again, “Tendou.” There was a sing-song confirmation and then the call was ended, with nothing but dull beeps resonating though the air like a countdown._

_“Tendou? As in Tendou Satori? Fuck, boss, what are we going to do? That fucker is downright insane! He’ll kill us all!”_

_Oikawa didn’t know how long the men waited, how long they argued amongst each other about what to do. A few said that they should use Oikawa as a hostage, another said to just kill him and run, but the CEO finally settled the dispute by saying that they should just skip town. if asked about it, no one would listen to Oikawa, and the group could just lie and say that they were out on business at the time of the incident. With a final kick to his ribs, Oikawa groaned in pain, curling himself into a ball and watched the men sprint away. They were crossing the street, laughing nervously amongst themselves, when a car came out of nowhere and slammed right into them. They lay on the pavement, moaning miserably as the driver’s side door opened._

_Out stepped a tall, lanky man with sharp tufts of red hair and beady pupils for eyes, dressed in a deep maroon suit. He regarded the victims littered before his car with a blasé expression before racing into the alley to find Oikawa sprawled on the ground, trying in vain to get to his feet. He crouched next to Oikawa and gather the clothes strewn about nearby._

_“I’m Tendou Satori,” he introduced, and then quickly added, “I’m sorry.”_

_Oikawa ignored him and tried to stand again, and was successful this time, thanks to the help of Tendou. Slowly, Oikawa was half dragged and halted limped to the car, a burning pain spiking up in his right ankle whenever he put the smallest amount of pressure on it. As they walked, it began to start misting, droplets of water that normally would’ve felt refreshing now felt like little needles piercing into his skin. The two halted and looked at the men on the street who gazed up at them in fear, like they were monsters emerging from shadows._

_“Do you have a gun?” Oikawa asked faintly. His voice was a quiver, a small sound in the empty night._

_“Do you want to shoot them?” Tendou asked curiously, cocking his head to the side._

_Hearing no argument, Oikawa’s voice grew more confident. “Good guess. Yes. I want to shoot them.”_

_Without another word or even so much as a waring, Tendou brought out a handgun and tossed it to him. “I’m not allowed to shoot them, but the boss never said anything about you shooting them,” he supplied, when Oikawa gave him an inquiring glance. He held up more bullets in his other hand, as he helped Oikawa lean against the front of the car for support. “Take as man shots as you need until you feel better. The bastards deserve this.”_

_Oikawa couldn’t agree more, and he let himself grin as he watched the helpless men futility tried to crawl away, their legs broken and mangled._

_Maybe he was born for it, but after only the first shot was a miss and he received a few reassurances from Tendou that no one hit their target on the first few shots, Oikawa never missed again. Though his hands shook like he was on the verge of collapsing at any minute, the men that had held him down had a bullet between the eyes, lodged in their throats, or in the stomach and were screaming into the unforgiving night as they bled out. All that was left was the goddamn CEO, the one that had actually raped Oikawa._

_Tendou was whooping loudly at his side, more than impressed with his innate skills. “I haven’t seen talent like this since I was trained to shoot!” he laughed. “You’re a natural born killer, Oikawa Tooru. How does it feel? Feels good, doesn’t it?”_

_Oikawa knew that if he tried to answer, he would only answer truthfully. It did feel good, a rush of adrenaline renewing the strength in his bones and lighting a fire that wouldn’t be extinguished until all the of them in front of him were in Hell where they belonged. These men had violated him, used him like he was a living sex toy to abuse. To say that he wasn’t pleased that they would be lying dead on the streets in the morning for the birds to scavenge off of would be a big lie. “Do you have a knife on you?” Oikawa asked instead, decidedly ignoring Tendou’s question._

_Tendou blinked his wide eyes in surprise, but reached behind him and unsheathed a kukri, a knife with a beautiful but wicked angle, and handed it to him without an argument. “It’s very personal weapon,” he warned. “If you really want to go through with stabbing him, look him right in the eyes. If he somehow manages to survive this, which I bet he won’t, but in car he does, you want him to remember your face as you discover how easy it was to stab him in the heart.”_

_“Fine by me,” Oikawa responded, unfeeling, accepting the weapon and turning it over in his hand. The metal was shiny and colder than death tot he touch. It was perfect. “He didn’t even have the courage to face me when he raped me. So, I’m going to amen sure that he can remember my face as I kill him when he arrives in whatever Hell he winds up in.”_

_“Ushijima told me you were bold one, but he didn’t say anything about you being a ruthless one,” Tendou chuckled, as Oikawa limped forward and dropped to his knees next to the man. He raised the knife and imbedded the blade into the CEO, raised the knife and stabbed him again and again. Blood spattered across his face, painting his rage and sorrow that had been building up all summer and finally breaking free. He didn’t know he had contained all of this until now, until he was stabbing like a crazed man into a limp body. “What a pleasant surprise to find that the nice kid from humble beginnings who just wanted to save his nephew would turn out to be exactly like us.”_

* * * * * *

“Oikawa?”

Iwaizumi’s voice was there, grounding and surrounding him, pulling him to safety from the turbulent memory. Hearing it was like listening to the sound of wind after being in a mind numbing car ride. Just the sound of the rough, baritone voice made Oikawa give in to a small smile. He felt one of Iwaizumi’s calloused hands cup his face and lift it up to meet his eyes, softened and apologetic.

Oikawa thought then and there that he didn’t deserve someone as good as Iwaizumi. Any other stranger might’ve looked at him in disgust, like he was damaged goods on a store shelf. He wouldn’t have been able to bear it if Iwaizumi had looked at him like that. That fear had cropped up during their first kiss in the suit store, and even now it grew like a tumor. He was too damaged, afraid that he was beyond repair, going from someone who just needed money to shooting and stabbing people, and worse on even later. Who did that, really? Not many, and Oikawa was one of those few. A large part of him that died that night, the jovial, heartening side of him that his family had adored so much was replaced by who he was now: a killer, coldblooded and ruthless, as unforgiving as a vengeful king.

Iwaizumi pulled him closer and into a tight, consuming embrace. “I got you, Oikawa,” he whispered. Oikawa didn’t even realize that he freely crying until he felt the fabric against his face grow damp from his tears. He hated feeling this weak, much preferring to escape in his bravado. “I’m not going anywhere, and I would never hurt you. Let it out, okay?”

Oikawa sniffled and tried to pull away but was stopped. “I don’t cry,” he insisted, giving a few complimentary pats as assurance. “I’m too pretty to cry, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi huffed out what sounded like an irked growl. “You were hurt,” he said. “Even if it was years ago, it can still hurt to talk about it. So . . . just—Let yourself be human for a few minutes.”

“I’m fine, really,” Oikawa managed, truthfully. Iwaizumi allowed him to pull away, but used his sleeve to wipe away the tears from Oikawa’s face. “It was years ago. I felt sorry for myself and I moved on. It wasn’t easy, it was hell. Every time I closed my eyes I could feel them and hear them, but eventually they started to fade away when I confided in Akaashi and Kenma. The two of them helped me through the nightmares and bad days. So, I’m fine now, but this isn’t the end of the story, Iwa-chan.”

“We can take a break,” Iwaizumi reminded him.

“If I don’t finish this story now, then I don’t know if I’ll be able to continue it later,” Oikawa replied. “So, unless you need a break, I would like to finish this story, is that okay?”

Nodding, Iwaizumi offered him his hand again and said, “Squeeze it as hard as you to, don’t care if you break it. If it’ll help, crush every finger.”

“Iwa-chan! Tetsu-chan will kill me if I do that.”

But Oikawa found himself laughing, regardless. He cleared his throat and continued. “Shiratorizawa offered me a formal apology and gave me double the money as compensation. My family questioned where I got the money, but I told them not to worry about it. Takeru made it though the surgery and was able to keep his sight. I thought that would be the end of my ties with the yakuza, and that I would be able to somehow move on past what I had done, but I knew we would need more money. As luck would have it, Tendou Satori found me again and recommended me to a couple traveling of guns for hire outside of Japan. I accepted, and Akaashi and Kenma followed me.”

“Why did they?” Iwaizumi asked.

* * * * * *

_“This isn’t anything that university prepared us for. For gods’ sake! Kenma, you studied video game design because they were online courses. Akaashi, you took a double major in linguistics and zoology! I fucked up, my family needs me, and that’s partially why I’m doing this! I don’t want you guys just jumping in because it seems like a good idea. It isn’t. I’m going to be learning how to kill people, young and old, men and women. There is no reason for you two to get mixed up in this because I’m desperate! You have your lives ahead of you, your studies—”_

_“Oikawa-san, with all due respect, my parents kicked me out when they discovered I was gay. You’re my family now, more than they are. If this is going to help save a member of your family, who opened their arms and accepted me without hesitance, then you can be sure as hell that I will follow you into this, dangerous or not. Two hefty paychecks will make it so that your family can afford better treatments, right?”_

_“Three will be even better.”_

_“Kenma—”_

_“While I am doing this to help you, Tooru, I’m also doing this for me.”_

_“Your parents—”_

_“They won’t be able to reach me if I’m outside the country, right? Good. Then that’s where I’m going. You’re selfish, Tooru, but you can’t save everyone by yourself.”_

_“Kozume-san is right. Having us by your side will increase your chances of digging up enough money. Let us help you like you helped us when we needed it.”_

* * * * * *

“Jesus Christ,” Iwaizumi breathed. “You worked for mercenaries?”

“Sounds like a bad movie plot twist, doesn’t it?” Oikawa chuckled. He hung his head and carried on, “We didn’t work for them for long. They got caught by authorities in Beijing not long after I started learning from them. Not knowing how we could get back to Japan, myself, Kenma, and Akaashi continued the business. Kenma learned how to hack into security cameras to get a layout and plan our escape routes, Akaashi’s linguistics major came in handy, and I handled all the bloodshed, since I seemed to have a real knack for it. People called for us, we went and killed whoever they wanted dead, men or women, young and old.”

“That’s why Kuroo said you were unapologetic about killing Oni Kodaira, because you’d killed many times before.” It all clicked now, why Oikawa knew his way around a gun like it was his own hand, and it explained why Bokuto and Kuroo put so much faith in him. He had to admit, the idea that the man in front of him just killed for money, not really caring who or what they did, was unnerving, even to Iwaizumi, who was yakuza. Oikawa just seemed to regal and pretty to be so brutal. Maybe he should have seen it coming, having gone with Kuroo to contract guns for hire multiple times, but he never really thought he was going to fall in love with one.

“Killing Sin was easier than infiltrating a government sanctioned event of a foreign country, especially since the piece of shit deserved it,” Oikawa chuckled, waving his hand dismissively. “I just had to wait for the right opportunity, and lo and behold, Kuroo just happened to have the job lined up just for me.”

“Does your family know what you do?” Iwaizumi asked. He cursed himself silently. He shouldn’t have asked. That was overstepping some boundaries at least. He should’ve stayed quiet and just let Oikawa finish talking.

“My family knows I’m a stripper, nothing more,” Oikawa replied quietly. “At first, no one was particularly supportive of my career move, but once I started bringing in the necessary money for Takeru’s surgeries, they stopped arguing with me about it. They understand why I did what I had to, so they know just enough to see the inspiration behind the lies I painted for them. They just don’t know the full story, and I never want them to. I’m not the same boy they watched grow up, watched graduate at the top of my class, watched earn a standing ovation at my first play. I’m much uglier now than I was then. I sed to to be so fucking cute, chubby cheeks, puppy eyes, and an imagination like you wouldn’t believe, but look at me now, at everything I’ve done, Iwa-chan. I’m beaten and blood and ugly.”

“No, no, no,” Iwaizumi said simply. “You’re fucking gorgeous so stop that right now, you idiot. You are not ugly, you are the most brilliant person I have ever met, you’ve been through so much and you’ve come out stronger than most. So, don’t you dare start saying you’re beaten and ugly, because I won’t stand for it, you hear me?” Oikawa blinked at him, mouth slightly agape, lips trembling. Iwaizumi took a deep breath and asked his other question, “Are you still a merc?”

Oikawa tensed with an involuntary jerk, like he was flinching away from a slap. “I—That’s another story for another time,” he replied. “It was after an incident, entirely my fault, right after Suga offered us a way back to Japan. At the time, we were satisfied with the money we were making, but circumstances arouse and we took the job he offered us and went back to Japan. Sugawara was a big name here in Japan, running multiple smuggling rings and running circles around the police, so we believed him when he said we’d fit right in. He started up Diamonds&Sapphires soon after we returned, and now we are what we are, whatever the clients needs us to be. A distraction, a killer, a hacker, or just an entertainer for the night.”

“How many people have you killed?” Iwaizumi asked without giving him a second to breathe.

“What?” Oikawa blinked owlishly. The question caught him off guard.

“I’m sorry, I have questions, but it’s because I want to know a few things. So, how many people did you kill while you were a mercenary?”

“209 successful, publicly known kills and I shouldn’t talk about those that are still undiscovered also not counting the jobs I’ve been on since I got back to Japan.” Oikawa flexed his fingers, like he was preparing the pull the trigger. “But it is somewhere in the 300s.”

“Wow, I am so far behind you,” Iwaizumi chuckled, feigning jealousy. “I only have about 90 confirmed kills since I started working for Kuroo and Nekoma.”

“Iwa-chan, this isn’t one of those cutesy couple-y competitions! I killed people—”

“I have too!” Iwaizumi interrupted. He was going to be damned if he let Oikawa think that Oikawa was the worst of the worst. At least he went into the job with a purpose, to save a member of his family. Iwaizumi had just . . . not known what to do with his life. He had just jumped into the yakuza lifestyle the minute Kuroo had offered him a job where he would never be bored. Out of the two of them, Iwaizumi felt as though he was the worst, not Oikawa. “We’re both terrible people that have done terrible things and have had terrible things happen to them. Don’t think I like you any less because you killed people for money. Earlier this week I killed off two psycho, honeymoon lovers because they stole drugs that were supposed to be part of a deal with an out of country dealer! My point is, Oikawa, that I still really like you, and I guess it makes it kind of easier now that I know who you are and what you’ve done, because I’m no better.”

He took a breath, surprised at himself. Two pretty good “speeches” by him. He was on a roll today, though ti was probably because he couldn’t stand the sight of Oikawa abetting himself up. Iwaizumi and never been all that good with words, mostly leaving the inspiring if not slightly disconnected speeches to Bokuto and the dorky yet still confidence raising talks to Kuroo. However, talking with Oikawa was easier than breathing, telling him that he was amazing and that Iwaizumi accepted him no matter only seemed like the obvious thing to voice, but it seemed to have the desired effect because Oikawa was beaming at him, more brilliantly than stars on a clear night.

Oikawa leaned back and flopped onto the pillows, picking one up and screaming into it giddily. “Why the hell was I so afraid to tell you? Of course you’d understand, because you’re the picture-fucking-perfect boyfriend!” Iwaizumi laughed, leaned over and ruffled his hair playfully. Oikawa squeaked and batted at him with the pillow. “Just because my hair isn’t perfect right now doesn’t mean you can mess it up any more, Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi threw the pillow aside and smiled at the sight of a ruffled looking Oikawa beneath him, face flushed and laughing breathily. “So, we’re shiny?” the Sapphire asked.

Iwaizumi, recognizing the reference, let his smile drop and he groaned, rolling onto his back. “Please don’t tell me you’re obsessed with _Firefly_ too! Bokuto hasn’t shut up about in years!” He should’ve seen this coming too. Oikawa was wearing a goddamn Millennium Falcon hoodie for Christ’s sake! Of course he’d seen _Firefly_ too, probably had been one of the many people still cried about its untimely cancelation.

“That cancelation was unjust and you know it, even if you never watched the show!” Oikawa exclaimed dramatically, his eyes illuminating happily as he sat up. _And there it is. He’s a Browncoat, just like Bokuto and Kuroo._ He began speaking so earnestly and passionately, waving and gesturing with his hands for emphasis. “Curse Rupert Murdoc and Fox for this crime against TV entertainment! There are so many questions I have as a result of the final episode, the movie, and the comics! Does Inara really get sick and die like they hinted at in interviews? Does she end up with Mal in the end? Does Kaylee get her Simon? What will Zoe do without Wash? Reavers? Will there be another war against the Alliance? Does River become their new pilot? These are all things I need to know, Iwa-chan! Which reminds me, Iwa-chan, we’ve never actually gone out on an official first date, and while I love getting jerked off in the backseat of a car, how do you feel about marathoning the entirety of the best Western SciFi show ever made, and the amazing movie, as our first date?”

Seeing Oikawa talk and rant so freely about a TV show, with no restraints holding him back, was a beautiful sight, really. In a his relatively barren room, which he promised he would decorate more for Iwaizumi’s next visit, he lit up the space around them like the sun streaming in through storm clouds. Oikawa looked like he couldn’t even control the smile on his face, out of control and larger than life. His glasses bounced with every abrupt gesture as he talked, and his doe brown eyes sparkled. Yeah, Iwaizumi liked all sides of Oikawa, his ugly baggage and present beauty, but found that this Oikawa, the one where he was free to talk and fanatically adore a TV show, talk like they had no barriers between them, and just . . . feel real, like he was going to stay, was the most amazing feeling.

Iwaizumi ran a hand over his face. “I’m dating a fanatic, a fanboy of an astronomical spaghetti western,” he muttered, snickering to try and hide how he had been mesmerized at how passionately Oikawa was speaking. “And, no, if we’re going to watch something for our first date it should be a classic, something cool. Christmas is coming up soon, how about _Die Hard_?”

“Iwa-chan, _Die Hard_ is not a Christmas movie!”

“It takes place during Christmas!”

“That doesn’t make it a Christmas film!”

“And _Firefly_ is a better choice?”

Oikawa swatted at him with the pillow again, gentler this time and smiled at him. He seemed so much more relaxed now, revealing in the ease that Iwaizumi’s presence brought him. Iwaizumi cupped Oikawa’s face and brought him down for their lips to meet again. A slow, sensual kiss, one that left them completely satisfied yet begging for more, to feel that flickering flame of heat between their lips once again, that was there to confirm that, yes, they were indeed shiny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we go, my nerdy, space-loving butt just can't go on for long without making some sort of reference to Firefly. (In all honesty, though, I love the series so much and listen to the main title, THE BALLAD OF SERENITY, all the time, and then I listen to music that will help me write these fics.)
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you have a nice day!


	5. Revolving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And there’s no mountain too high  
> No river too wide  
> Sing out this song and I’ll be there by your side  
> Storm clouds may gather  
> And stars may collide”  
> \-- Moulin Rouge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you know? We started with Moulin Rouge and we will end this fic with Moulin Rouge. This last chapter is a little short, but it's all to set up the short stories and next multi-chapter fic to come! I'm currently hard at work on those, but I don't know when they'll be out. I'm going to try and make serious headway before posting more.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter!  
> (Warning: Mentions of drugs being forced on someone, please read with caution.)

“Can you please stop smiling like that?” Kuroo asked, leaning his elbows onto the central bar counter they were currently occupying in Diamonds&Sapphires. He was nursing a glass of red wine because he said that he wanted to look sexy while he waited for Kenma. It wasn’t working because he was too busy either laughing with Bokuto about something or criticizing the way Iwaizumi appeared to be so content. “I much prefer your resting bitch face over this lovesick, _I-look-like-I-just-had-the-best-sex-in-the-universe_ look. None of us have gotten any action today, so who gave you the right to look so happy?”

“Oh, nothing really, just that I have the most gorgeous boyfriend in the world and he trusts me _intimately_ ,” Iwaizumi smirked, swiveling slightly on the barstool. Everything was going great with Oikawa. Sure, this was only just the honeymoon stage of a new relationship, but he couldn’t deny that he was over the moon with how smoothly they were progressing. Plus, the sex was amazing. The only hitch in their relationship was their differing schedules. Oikawa worked at night, sleeping during the day, and Iwaizumi was the opposite, but they were making it work, because, like Bokuto had promised in beginning, it was worth it.

“Excuse me,” Bokuto cut in. His ever so expressive face was scrunched into what was supposed to be a very intimidating scowl, but it came out as more of a drunken pout. “Iwaizumi, I love you, my man, I’m pretty sure that _I_ have the most gorgeous boyfriend in the world. Have you seen Akaashi?”

“Both of you are wrong!” Kuroo announced with a flourish. He playfully shoved Iwaizumi’s shoulder and laughed. “ _Kenma_ is the most gorgeous boyfriend in the universe, and I’m your boss and I pay you, so I’m right and you’re both wrong.”

“But—”

“Your boss has spoken!” Kuroo exclaimed theatrically, reaching forward and grabbing a suffering Tsukishima’s glasses and proceeded to bang them against his wine glass like he was making an important announcement. “Official decree of the land: Kenma is the most gorgeous boyfriend in the universe!”

“Tsukki!” Bokuto cried out, like a toddler, taking another swig of the bourbon in front of him. “Tell Kuroo he’s wrong!”

“Even though _you’re all wrong_ , please leave me out of this,” the blond bartender muttered, snatching his glasses back from their boss and walking away, leaving poor Yamaguchi to deal with their antics, who looked like a kitten surrounded by two overly friendly puppies and Iwaizumi. The freckled bartender quickly pulled out the respective bottles and refilled their drinks to keep them sated and from talking to him.

“Gentlemen.” Sugawara’s voice floated over their way, somehow completely understandable even with the monotonous beat that the DJ was having way too much fun with. The owner of the Diamonds&Sapphires stood just behind them with Sawamura, his arms crossed over the front of his chest, his warm smile nowhere to be seen, and dressed in a fitting silver suit. As usual, he lived up to name of the Diamond, but he didn’t seem as bright and charismatic as he often liked to be. “We have a problem.”

Iwaizumi couldn’t miss the way the way Sugawara’s eyes were focused in on him. It wasn’t a glare, but a stern look of concern. “What is it?”

“Oikawa has a client.”

“Okay,” Kuroo chuckled, setting aside his wine. “So, some businessman just blew his entire savings to have our egotistical friend flaunt himself on a tinier stage. What’s so bad about that? The guy will get a boner, beg Oikawa to “help” him with it, but get rejected and leave like the miserable sop he probably is and sob over his wasted money while drinking himself into a stupor.”

Sawamura gave them leveled, disapproving glare. “If that were the case, Kuroo Tetsurou, then we wouldn’t have come to you saying we have a problem,” he ground out. “A man by the name of Daishou Suguru has come in a total of four different times today, this being the fourth. He is in there right now with my Sapphire. He said something to Oikawa, and our Jewel offered him a free dance. The same happened the other three times.”

Kuroo’s grin melted into a defeated glower, something Iwaizumi didn’t see very often, only when his boss was pissed off beyond all reason. “Daishou Suguru?” he asked, for clarification.

“Yeah, the informant,” Sugawara bit out. He cast a worried glance over his shoulders towards the door that led to the hallways where the dressing rooms and section over stages for private shows were. “I want him out.”

Iwaizumi Hajime didn’t know much about Daishou Suguru, but he knew enough. He was an informant commonly known as Snake, with more information than any one man should ever know, which meant he could blackmail anyone into giving him millions with only a word. He worked both sides of Tokyo, providing valuable connections for yakuza families but also aided police in bringing in yakuza members by somehow having the appropriate physical evidence. Kuroo had been subjected to a few meetings with the man, finding him extremely unpleasant and carried himself with a smug, articulate attitude that was just plain unnerving. Often his boss was in control and didn’t lose his temper with any one man easily, so Iwaizumi didn’t exactly want to meet the bastard that nearly caused his boss to shoot up a coffee shop all because Daishou Suguru was getting an americano there.

Kuroo bit his lip and forced his hands to unclench. “I can’t do anything,” he said, ruefully, and began to ease back into leaning causally against the bar counter. “He isn’t making any moves against us, and I don’t want to somehow end up in prison for a crime I actually didn’t commit for once. I won’t cross him now.”

Sugawara stalked right up to him, grabbed Kuroo by the tie and hefted him up with a violent jerk, like he was trying to break his neck. Sawamura just looked at Kuroo like the head of Nekoma had it coming.

“He did something to Kenma,” Sugawara said, voice dripping venom as his hazel eyes were alight with loathing. “The son of a bitch said something that sent him into a panic attack! Kenma won’t talk to any of us!” Then he turned to Bokuto, with a glare just a fierce. His grip on Kuroo’s tie hadn’t gotten any kinder, pulling at the fabric so hard it was ripping. “He did something similar to Akaashi too, the poor boys are in the back. Akaashi’s taking care of Kenma, but that means I’m down three of my best dancers because some fucker wants to play mind games.” Now he turned to Iwaizumi, releasing Kuroo’s tie finally, letting his Iwaizumi’s boss breathe, and spoke in a voice that betrayed his ire. “So, if you know what’s good for you, and you want your boys to stay here in Tokyo, lest I have them relocated which I would prefer not to do, you will get rid of this goddamn snake and make sure he doesn’t come back, kill him if you have to, I don’t care, but I do not want him coming back here to harass us.”

The three were suddenly very sober.

“Why don’t you do something?” Bokuto demanded. He hadn’t exactly perked at the mention of Akaashi, more like shattered the glass in his hands, shards stabbing into his palm as blood dripped down his wrist. “You’re crueler than a knife, Sugawara, why didn’t you stop him?” There was no reply, but the glare wavered. Bokuto opened his mouth in shock. “No, oh my god, no. Sugawara, don’t tell me he got you too.”

“I can’t move a muscle against him,” Sugawara bit out. Iwaizumi was surprised, someone like Sugawara seemed careful and planning, and could disarm you with a couple of friendly words. He didn’t think he would see the day when Sugawara was barred from taking action for his dancers. “What can I say? The fucker came prepared. He has something on all of us here, especially Daichi.”

“Boss!” Tsukishima called out over the music. For someone who seemed like nothing could ever faze him, he did seem troubled as he held up phone for them all to see. It was then that Iwaizumi noticed that his pinky was bandaged to his ring finger, and from the look on Sugawara’s face, he could guess that Daishou had everything to do with it. “Trouble on stage 8!”

“That’s where Oikawa’s performing,” Sawamura managed to get out before Iwaizumi was flying from his seat, drawing his piece.

Kuroo and Bokuto were right with him, the three of them roughly shouldering through the crowds. A few curses and derogatory names were flung their way. When they made it to the back, it was agreed that it might not be best for Kuroo to be seen so he made his way towards the break room to check on Akaashi and Kenma, while Bokuto and Iwaizumi marched down the hallway like soldiers on a mission to room 8. The hallway was quiet, save for a few murmuring voices of heads peaking out from other rooms, looking at them or staring in the direction of the room.

“What do you think he wants?” Bokuto asked.

“Intimidation,” Iwaizumi replied. “Either this is a power play, to show that he has information over everyone, or he’s testing the waters to see if everyone here really will bite like piranhas when threatened.”

“I want to shoot him,” Bokuto grumbled. “He hurt my Akaashi.”

“We can’t,” Iwaizumi said evenly. Though, he said this, his blood was boiling, his own face etched into a murderous glare. “Even if Sugawara wants us to, the police rely so much on his help and will go crazy without their informant. I’m talking an actual manhunt, dragging every river in Tokyo for his body. It would definitely send Kageyama and Hinata our way, and you know that they wouldn’t let up if the case had any hints of yakuza involvement, plus that doesn’t count all the other yakuza clans that will be up in arms at his disappearance.”

“Fuck!”

“I feel the same way, but just because you can’t kill him doesn’t mean we can’t shoot his kneecaps, break his arms, and beat him into a bloody mess. You can still make this guy pay for hurting Akaashi, Kenma, and Oikawa.”

Bokuto beamed at him, like a kid who was told he could have as much candy as he wanted, his golden eyes shining with mischief. “Iwaizumi, this is why we work! You keep me in line while still letting me have my fun!”

The door was kicked open, the hinges creaking as they broke from Bokuto’s blow, as soon as they approached. The room was dimly lit, gel lights being the only thing making anything visible in the room, a faint glow of blues and silvers. Oikawa was facing someone Iwaizumi didn’t recognize but assumed was Daishou Suguru, holding a gun just in front of the stranger’s forehead, and the other was doing the same. Both wore malicious grins, slashes of white teeth, that darkened their eyes into a murderous black, and the air was filled with a deadly tension so thick you would need a knife to cut through it. It was a standoff if Iwaizumi had ever seen one, as silent as the grave.

“Daishou Suguru,” Iwaizumi said, raising his gun. His mind was telling him not to kill this son of a bitch, because it would only lead to trouble with the cops, but every other fibre in his body was screaming at him to jump in and protect Oikawa, to put a bullet in Daishou Suguru’s brain and leave him somewhere to rot away. “I’m going to politely ask you to step away from my boyfriend before I kill you myself.”

“Iwaizumi, Bokuto, leave the room please,” Oikawa ordered. The cool, strident tone of the words and the lack of the nicknames surprised the both of them, almost making them drop their weapons an inch, but they didn’t budge any further. It didn’t tale a genius to know that both of these men in front of Iwaizumi were seconds from pulling the triggers to kill the other. “You don’t want to get involved in this.”

“Aww, Oikawa,” Daishou Suguru sang mockingly. He turned to Iwaizumi, studying him like a cobra deciding whether or not to strike at a helpless mouse. He had a small build, lithe, and had dark hair, styled quite professionally with his bangs swept off to the side. His eyes were slanted and danced merrily with mirth, furthering the snake-like appearance, as he studied Iwaizumi and Bokuto. “Don’t want to share your precious Iwa-chan with me?”

“Shut up,” Oikawa snarled, shoving the barrel of the gun harder against Daishou’s forehead, only getting a terrible, sneering tease in response (“Aw, you care about him that much, do you?”). Oikawa’s eyes flickered over to Iwaizumi and Bokuto for only a split second and said, “The two of you, leave. I won’t repeat myself.”

Ignoring his words, Daishou focused solely on Iwaizumi, his mouth quirking up into a dangerous smirk. “So, you’re Iwaizumi Hajime,” he chuckled. “The partner of Nekoma’s right hand man. You’re shorter than I thought you’d be.” He let the gun fall away from Oikawa’s head. Instead, he now aimed in the direction of Iwaizumi’s heart, and Iwaizumi felt like he was already dead. “Breaking your Oikawa is harder than I anticipated it would be, Iwaizumi Hajime. He’s not nearly as vulnerable as that little Kenma, but I bet Oikawa Tooru wouldn’t be too pleased with the idea of his beloved ending up in a hospital, would he?”

Iwaizumi had seen Oikawa move fast, like when he had seen Oikawa give chase after Oni Kodaira, but this was different. There wasn’t the cold murder in his eyes, this was an explosion of rage. He struck fast, knocking the butt of the gun against Daishou’s forehead to make him lose his aim. Daishou’s gun fired but the shot landed at Iwaizumi’s feet, and Oikawa grabbed the man’s dark hair and gave him brutal head-butt. Daishou wasn’t knocked out, but he stumbled back, still clutching his gun like it was his lifeline.

“I know about what happened in Moscow, Oikawa,” Daishou said, massaging his head. His words were slurred, still recovering from the impact. Oikawa froze, eyes blown wide with fear. The sight of it made Daishou break into a loud bout of laughter. “A whole family reunion? Seems a bit overkill, doesn’t it?”

Seeing that Oikawa was probably about to all semblance of control, Bokuto finally moved and stepped in between the two. Emerging from the space out of Daishou’s line of sight, a blur of movement, he brought his foot out and swept, knocking Daishou’s legs out from under him and bringing a tightly clenched fist right into the informant’s nose. There was a sickening **_CRUNCH_** that permeated the air, making Iwaizumi shudder. Bokuto didn’t let up after that one blow, though, continuing a brutal barrage of violent punches into the informant’s face.

“You don’t threaten my partner!” Bokuto seethed, voice strained a bit as he continued to everything he had into his punches. His eyes shined like melted gold from the ferocity of his ire. “You don’t threaten Kenma, or Oikawa! And you don’t, I repeat, _you do not hurt my Akaashi!_ And—” he delivered a final blow that hit so hard that Daishou’s had snapped to the side “—you won’t come back here if you want to keep your life!”

Daishou coughed, a dribble of blood escaping past his lips and running down his chin. He was still wearing that disgusting smirk. It unnerved Iwaizumi that this man could still remain so cool and confident despite being face-to-face with a furious Bokuto. This man had guts.

“I don’t make any promises, Bokuto Koutarou,” Daishou said, with a shrug, an attempt to try mask the pain wracking his body. “Don’t think you can get me to do anything. I have more than enough to get me in as much as I need.” He surveyed the room from where he lay on the floor, making eye contact with both Iwaizumi and Oikawa. “You think you’re safe from the cops because you have some blackmail on them? You don’t have jackshit compared to me. I have enough to send a goddamn army after all of you. I have enough to impeach many of the world’s greatest government officials. You can’t hide from me, can’t scare me, because I know all your worst and best kept secrets.”

Bokuto stood and let the heel of his shoe dig into Daishou’s nose, eliciting a sharp scream of pain from the other, a piercing howl. “And I have enough guns to kill you million times over, Daishou Suguru,” he laughed. “You want a war against Nekoma? I’ll be the one to come after you. Me, military trained, and I’ll even bring Oikawa along as well, a mercenary, and if you know his background then you know he’ll put you through more hell than even I will. I was a soldier that upheld morals, Oikawa broke moral on a daily basis.”

Daishou shoved Bokuto’s foot off his nose and stood up, as gracefully as he could and began making his way towards the door. “I get it,” he muttered begrudgingly. Although, he didn’t really seem all that put off by getting beaten up and being threatened. He was still smiling, like this game was only just getting started. “I start a war, and you’ll finish it. It’s a good thing I have everything I need in order to do just that.” He made a point of staring right at Iwaizumi when finished with, “Thank you for your help in the future, Iwaizumi Hajime.”

Oikawa raised his gun and shot. The bullet cut right across Daishou’s cheek but the man didn’t flinch, still reaching for the doorknob. “Touch him,” Oikawa growled, “and I won’t hesitate to give you the worst death mankind has ever seen.”

“I’m counting on it, Oikawa Tooru,” Daishou said, waving leisurely at them as he exited, like he was biding familiar friends farewell.

* * * * * *

_“Do you know how Oikawa Tooru is so good at his job?”_

_“I suppose it comes from natural talent. He learned how to assemble and disassemble a gun faster than I did, and is getting better at his shots. The guy just has a talent for it, I guess.”_

_“There’s that, but it always helps when you can’t feel a damn thing. A target is just a target, not an actual person but a way to a pretty penny. Tendou wouldn’t have vouched for him if he knew that Oikawa wouldn’t be able to separate himself from the job.”_

_“Bullshit. He’s a newbie. He’s gotta be miserable with guilt even now. Everyone feels something, and it’s gotta be worse for him.”_

_“Drugs definitely help with covering up his feelings, not that he needs them but they help.”_

_“You’re shooting him up before a job?”_

_“He’s already gotten into one scuffle. With the drugs in his system, he couldn’t even feel the bullets in him or knife in his back. He just kept fighting, killing, and cleaving out a path for our escape. So, yes, I’m going to keep injecting him with fucking drugs if it means we’ll get paid and he stays with us.”_

_“What was it?”_

_“Pain killers.”_

_“Must’ve been a fuckton of pain killers.”_

_“It was, his friends giving me looks that could kill the entire time. I was surprised myself when he didn’t die of an overdose. I remember him turning to me after he was done with the security guards, leaving them a bloody mess on the floor, and I swore that bastard look invincible. He looked like the perfect mercenary.”_

* * * * * *

Daishou Suguru had left Diamonds&Sapphires with a skip in his step.

Now, Iwaizumi and Oikawa were back at home in their apartment. Yes, their relationship was young and they were still learning about each other, but when one of them had brought it up it had seemed like a perfect idea. The conversation itself had been perfect, just like them, asking the question while already knowing the answer but grinning wildly when the yes was given. Oikawa loved the space, decorating it like he had always wanted to furnish his previous apartment and Iwaizumi was just glad for more space than he’d had at Nekoma Manor.

Here, this was their space, a two bedroom apartment. There was a wall that was slowly beginning to be covered in pictures Oikawa took of the two, a kitchen where Iwaizumi could a wide variety of dishes for lunch or dinner while Oikawa handled breakfast and whip up just about any dessert (he had a sweet tooth and put it to good use), their living room was filled with movies that they were headset on showing to each other, and their bedroom was a mess (you can probably guess why). In this space that they had together, stars that glowed in the dark covered the ceilings and just made it seem like it was theirs.

As soon as the door was closed with a soft thud, Oikawa pulled Iwaizumi into a tight, shivering embrace. Iwaizumi mimicked the action, letting his arms curl around Oikawa’s vulnerable frame. His boyfriend smelled like lavender and mint, floral and sharply cool, a scent that chased away the haunting words of Daishou Suguru and that immediately allowed Iwaizumi to relax, maneuvering his face until he was staring right into Oikawa’s eyes. Kissing him was like falling in love with him all over again, sweet and almost rushed.

_I’m here. I’m still here._

Oikawa’s lips were softer than down, the glides of tongue and lips harmonious against his own. Iwaizumi traced the fine, angled curves of Oikawa’s cheeks with light touches, and Oikawa ran his thumb over the nape of Iwaizumi’s neck in a gentle caress that made him hum pleasantly.

When they pulled apart, Iwaizumi leaned his forehead against Oikawa’s. “I would kill for you,” he said. “If anyone ever hurts you, Oikawa, just say the word and they’re dead.”

Oikawa kissed him again, short and but with so much feeling. “And I would burn down the world for you, Iwa-chan,” he said.

Fuck what Daishou Suguru threatened, fuck Kageyama and Hinata’s attempt to stop the days of yakuza influence, and fuck anything else that dared to stand in their way. Iwaizumi was the member of a prominent yakuza family, Oikawa was a former mercenary, and they had their friends in high places to count on their side as well. Whatever the Snake threw at them, gunmen or blackmail, whatever evidence the detectives found, there wasn’t anything they couldn’t handle. With Oikawa at his side, they both swore that they could destroy anything that came between them, information, people, and death itself.

If one of them was going to die, the other would soon follow without hesitance. Yes, they were only in the beginning of the rest of their lives together, but they already knew that they couldn’t live without each other, and would rather die, cut their own wrists or put a bullet in their brains, than face the day when one might lose the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read, left a comment, and left kudos! Your support means the world to me! I'm can't wait to complete this series!

**Author's Note:**

> I will say that I don't plan for this fic to be very long, maybe around 20k-40k words at most, but there will be various one-shots and maybe one or two multi-chapter additions that will be prequels and sequels to this story.
> 
> Come scream at me on tumblr if you want, if you have any questions or would like to know the specific backstories of any of the characters that haven't been mentioned or appeared in the fic yet: http://idontevenlogic.tumblr.com
> 
> (My blog is a mess, and I am sorry.)


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